cuddys_house | Next morning

Next morning

About half an hour after Cuddy fell asleep on him, House managed to urge her off him without waking her too much, and rolled up behind her. Within another fifteen minutes, he was fast asleep himself.

He slept soundly. Or at least more soundly than he'd slept in the last month. He woke once in the night to go the toilet, shivering and cursing under his breath as he peed because the icy cold tiles under his feet was like standing on dry ice. He scurried back to bed and dived under the covers, using Cuddy's body heat to warm himself up again. Come morning, the sun was shining bright, which created a glare with the way it reflected off the snow, and House roused from sleep a little after nine. He lazed around for a little while as he woke up, then finally got up to go to the toilet again. Cuddy was still asleep. He supposed waking her up in the middle of the night and engaging in rigourous sex had left her exhausted. He let her sleep once he finished in the bathroom, shrugged on her bathrobe to keep warm - white with pink flowers on the collar, which made House roll his eyes. It would serve its purpose, however. And besides, he was in a light mood, the lightest he'd been in over a month. In fact, he felt happy. He attributed that to getting laid the night before, though reuniting with Cuddy probably played a big part in it. He then headed out to the living room with the robe hanging undone to watch TV.

Sunday morning television was boring as all hell. He channel surfed, settling on Spongebob for a little while. His stomach grumbled in hunger while he sat slouched on the couch, the robe split open at his legs because he was sitting with his legs spread. He scratched his chin and then his head, and decided to raid Cuddy's fridge. Pushing up from the couch, he made his way out to the kitchen.

Upon reaching the fridge, he stood with the door open for a while and studied the contents. He couldn't decide what he wanted: cereal or toast? Neither, he thought, as his eyes settled on the carton of eggs on the top shelf. He then spied the milk. And the butter. Pancakes suddenly entered his head. He was going to have pancakes. He wasn't sure he could remember how to make them, but he'd give a shot. One thing Wilson had been useful for when he'd stayed at House's place those few weeks was he did useful but annoying things like showed House how to make some basic meals beyond canned soup. He pulled the eggs, the milk and the butter out from the fridge, then raided the pantry for flour. Then he raided the cupboards for something to mix everything together, a frying pan, something to actually mix everything together with. Eventually, he had everything he needed. He stood at the mixing bowl, one eye screwed shut in deep thought as he tried to remember how many eggs were supposed to go into pancake batter. Two? Three? He decided three was probably too many and settled on one, just in case. He broke the egg into the bowl, added what he hoped was the right amount of flour and milk, and started to mix furiously.

Somehow, he ended up with batter that seemed the right consistency. He hoped, anyway. After he heated the frying pan, he scooped some butter into it and melted it, then began spooning dollops of pancake batter onto the pan.

The first three attempts ended up charred and revoltingly spongy. He started to get the hang of it by the fifth pancake, and by the fifteenth one, he realised he probably had too many. Well, that was okay. He was hungry, anyway. They weren't exactly big pancakes, and they were pretty misshapen and a bit too floppy, but they looked edible enough. And upon giving himself a sampler, he decided they definitely tasted edible enough, too. They were actually quite nice, which was a feat for him. He hated cooking. That didn't mean he couldn't cook, but he rarely put the effort in to make anything too impressive. When he'd lived with Stacy, he'd cooked on the nights he was home and she wasn't. Always basic meals - steak and three veg, pasta with ready-made pasta sauce, fried eggs and bacon. By the time he was finished making the pancakes, he had flour smeared on his temple and the area around the mixing bowl was something of a mild floury mess.

After raiding Cuddy's pantry again, he unearthed some mayple syrup from the very back, found some lemon juice and then went searching through her fridge again and came across strawberries. So, now he was faced with the dillema of what to have with the pancakes. Everything, he decided. He had fifteen pancakes, if he included the first few failed attempts. That was enough to be greedy with.

Cuddy, he suddenly thought. Maybe she'd want some. He slapped the pancakes into a messy pile on a clean plate, took it and two more plates out to the living room, along with cutlery, and set the mayple syrup and strawberries and lemon juice, as well as the sugar pot on the coffee table. There. House-style pancakes with the lot in front of the TV. Not wanting them to get too cold and rubbery, he headed down the hall to the bedroom.

Cuddy still seemed to be asleep. Either that or she was dozing. He'd put an end to that. He launched himself onto the bed beside her, making the whole bed bounce violently, definitely enough to jerk Cuddy awake.

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The first thing Cuddy was aware of in the morning was that she was cold. Without opening her eyes she pulled the covers more tightly around her and snuggled back into her pillow. Somewhere in her mind she knew that House wasn't in the bed--she wouldn't be so cold if he was--but faint sounds coming from elsewhere in the house reassured her that he was still somewhere close.

There was too much sunlight coming into the bedroom for her to fall back into a deep sleep but she managed to slip into a light doze. She knew she should get up, get some things done, but it was the first morning in a while that she'd felt peaceful enough to to relax and enjoy sleeping in. She'd enjoy it more if House were sleeping in with her but she'd make do. She didn't often feel relaxed enough to do nothing. She always had a list of tasks in her head, a mental to-do list, that she could never quite forget completely. When she could ignore it, she wanted to take advantage of it. Not surprisingly, most of the times she could forget her responsibilities was when House was around. He was a bad influence...or a good one. It kind of depended on the circumstances.

"What the hell?" she said, jerking fully awake as the bed bounced. She struggled to turn over while still staying wrapped warmly in the bed clothes. She got settled on her other side and peered at House, looking like turtle with just her head poking out of the sheets. She noticed something white on his face and she pulled her hand out and reached over to touch the spot on his temple.

"What have you been doing?" she asked warily. Then her eyes widened as she took in the full picture. "Are you...wearing my bathrobe?"

House grinned down at Cuddy, though his grin faltered when she reached up for his head. He jerked back slightly when she touched his temple, then quickly reached up himself to see what Cuddy had been looking at. White stuff, he noticed when he looked at his fingertips. Flour. How the hell did that get up there?

He rubbed the flour away from his fingertips with his thumb and dropped his hand back to the bed, glancing down at himself when Cuddy queried his choice of clothing.

"No," he replied sarcastically. "I happen to own a very pretty and very girly bathrobe that looks exactly like yours!"

He wasn't about to take it off, either. It was warm and stripping out of it would mean sacrificing that warmth, and it was way too cold to slip on some other clothes that hadn't been warmed up by body heat.

"As for what I've been doing," he continued, now feigning complete seriousness. "Top secret. But don't worry - the important thing is that your kitchen is still in one piece."

"Well, it's a bold choice," Cuddy said, trying to keep a straight face. Her lips twitched, though, because the sight of House in a big fluffy bathrobe with pink flowers.... Totally priceless. "Not many men can pull off fuzzy pink flowers but you...."

She laughed then because she just couldn't keep up the pretence. He looked ridiculous but it was endearingly goofy. She loosed the covers wrapped around her and shifted up on her elbow. She reached over and curled her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a good morning kiss. She started to lie back again when his next statement caught her by surprise.

"I wasn't worried about the kitchen until you told me not to worry about the kitchen." She knew he wasn't hopeless in the kitchen. He was capable of handling basic food preparation. He looked just a little too pleased with himself, though, and that worried her a little. "Are you going to let me in on the secret?"

"I'm one of those guys who can pull off anything," House agreed, keeping a straight face, though the corners of his mouth were twitching.

Especially when she started to laugh. In fact, he almost lost just hearing her laugh alone. This was another thing he'd missed: making Cuddy laugh, hearing her laugh around him. He liked it when Cuddy did laugh, particularly when she laughed at something he said or did that he hoped would elicit a laugh from her.

Just to elicit some more of that laughter from her, he exclaimed in a mock camp voice as she reached for him, "I'm just too sexy for this bathrobe."

He smiled very faintly against her lips, his eyes closed while they kissed, then leaned back and propped his weight onto his elbow while he lay on his side. At her suspicious question, the smug, pleased look on himself became even more smug and pleased. "Ohhh, nothing much," he replied in a baiting tone. "Just..." He shrugged with fake casualness. "Experimentation. You know. Seeing what explodes with what when you mix the two together. Playing a game of 'Will It Blend?' with your blender and various things around the kitchen..."

"You're too something for it, that's for sure," Cuddy said, still chuckling.

She rested on her elbow, watching him. It was wonderful to watch him at all after the last month. Watching him enjoy himself, though, always special. He was like a whole different person when he smiled. He became the House that could've been if his life had taken a different course.

Then again, the reason behind his smile was, on occasion, something to worry about. On lots of occasions, actually.

"Experimentation," she repeated with a sigh. With a small shake of her head, she sat up and began to untangle herself from the sheets. She shivered as the chilly morning air hit her bare skin but she continued pushing the sheets down. She hadn't heard any actual explosions so she supposed her kitchen probably was still in one piece. "Guess I'm going to have to go find out for myself."

House gave Cuddy a wide-eyed innocent look when she echoed his explanation with a sigh. He watched her throw the covers back, then shifted up to a sitting position himself. Climbing off the bed, he adjusted the bathrobe on him - the sleeves were too short and came up past his wrists, and the hem barely came down to his knees. Still, it was warm.

"Think I bought the wrong size," he complained about the bathrobe, but then threw Cuddy a brief grin. Noting her nakedness, he added, "Suppose you want this, then."

He guessed he could live if he had to part with the warmth of the bathrobe. He had a bag in Cuddy's closet he'd brought around that time, with his stuff in it. He'd packed the bag with clothes, some of them warm. He stripped the bathrobe off and handed it across to Cuddy, then made his way over to her wardrobe. After digging his bag out, he quickly rummaged through it while his bare skin broke out into goosebumps and came across a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. He tugged them on and shuddered against the cold before facing back to Cuddy.

"You'll find some of the damage in the kitchen," he told her. "But you'll find most of it in the living room."

"I can't walk around naked," Cuddy said when he asked if she wanted her robe. She had nothing against nudity but her skin was already breaking out in goosebumps. She could turn up the thermostat but she actually preferred to keep the house cool. She knew she'd feel warm enough once she was up and moving. The problem came with the part about getting out of the nice, warm bed and getting to the moving.

She pulled the robe on as she slipped out of bed. It was nice and warm because House had been wearing it and she gratefully wrapped it around her. She started to head for the hallway when he warned her that his 'experimentation' hadn't been confined to the kitchen.

"Just so you know--I have a 'you break it, you bought it' policy," she said. She was more afraid of what she'd find in the kitchen so she entered the living room first. It took her a moment to notice what he'd done, but when she saw the food spread out on the coffee table, she turned to look over her shoulder at him.

"You made breakfast?" she asked, a look of mild shock on her face.

"Good thing you're insured," House agreed.

He followed after her down the hall, a feeling of... something that wasn't so smug coming over him as he realised Cuddy was probably going to be surprised by what he'd done. Mild embarrassment, maybe. Or awkwardness. Nice gestures weren't usually his shtik, and this definitely counted as a nice gesture. While Cuddy stood in the doorway and assessed the damage, House sheepishly rubbed his thumb across his forehead, though tried to appear casual as anything when she turned to look at him.

"No," he retorted. "Experimentation with things that explode. I put some pancake batter in the skillet to see what would happen and - boom! - out exploded these pancakes!" He widened his eyes in awed speculation, throwing a hand out as if to say, 'Wow!'. Then he added with feigned seriousness again, "And all of them landed on that plate in a perfect pile of their own accord. True story. I swear. Cross my little black heart."

"That actually makes more sense than you deliberately making breakfast," Cuddy teased. Hell, maybe it was the truth. Not the exploding experiments part, but the part about not intending to make breakfast. She figured he'd gotten hungry and started poking through her cupboards and the next thing he knew--breakfast.

"It's nice," she said, stretching up to her toes to give him a kiss. She pushed an unruly lock of hair behind her ear and turned toward the kitchen. She had no idea what kind of scene she'd find in there. House + cooking pancakes was probably a recipe for disaster but she might as well survey the culinary carnage now now. "I'm just going to get a glass of milk. Do you want coffee?"

"Well, it's not supposed to," he argued. He rolled his eyes at the way Cuddy was probably going to tease him about this. Honestly, no good deed went unpunished with him - whether that was someone doing a good deed, or himself doing one. But he accepted the kiss when Cuddy leaned up to him, and he even offered her a hint of a smile once she pulled away.

The truth was, arrogant as he could be and annoying as he knew he could be and obnoxious as he could be, he did like doing things for people he loved. Those nice things may not always be very frequent, but they were genuine when he did do them, even if he tried to joke it away. Part of the reason why he did joke it away wasn't just because he was awkward with being the nice guy once in a while, but because he really didn't want the approval or even the thanks. The thanks came out of his partner enjoying what he'd done and that was more than enough for him.

"Coffee's not a problem for you anymore?" he asked, watching Cuddy curiously as she headed towards the kitchen. Damn. He wasn't entirely sure why, but that made him really feel like he'd missed a huge chunk of her life this past month. "Sure, coffee," he agreed, and he turned back to the living room, shaking away any thoughts of the past month from his mind.

He took a seat on the couch, Spongebob was still playing on the TV, and he gathered up a plate and began piling a few pancakes onto it. Then he reached for the mayple syrup and drowned them in the sweet, sticky condiment. The sweeter, the better. He was tucking into his second pancake by the time Cuddy came into the room with the drinks.

"Remember what I said about doing something fun today?" he asked, licking some syrup off his thumb. "That's going to be our mission for the day."

"Not anymore," Cuddy confirmed as she headed for the kitchen. She prepared the coffee maker to brew just half a pot and then poured herself a glass of milk while it percolated.

It had been such a relief to get past the morning sickness. There were still occasionally some smells or tastes that weren't appealing but they didn't actually make her sick. And coffee, thankfully, wasn't even one of those. It was a good thing given how many people drank coffee around her in a normal work day. However, even though she could tolerate coffee now--even craved it sometimes--she hadn't gone back to drinking it. A little coffee wouldn't hurt her or the baby but it wouldn't help either. It was simply easier to avoid it completely now that she'd had to go several months without.

She returned to the living room and set the mug of coffee next to House's plate. She knelt down in front of the coffee table across from House and prepared to sample the pancakes. She was somewhat apprehensive. All she knew about his cooking skills was that he didn't cook. She didn't know if that meant he couldn't.

"Got anything in mind?" she asked as she raised the fork to her mouth. She chewed cautiously, then decided the pancakes weren't bad. Not the best she'd ever had, but not bad.

House watched Cuddy set the drinks on the table, again struck with a realisation of how he'd missed a whole month of her life. The last time he'd been with her, she'd hated the smell of coffee and refused to even allow it around her, and now... Well, it was also a testament to the fact that her pregnancy was progressing. Which House wasn't sure how he felt about that. It wasn't a bad feeling as such, nothing as intensely terrifying as it had been a month or more ago - if anything, this month separated from Cuddy had put the pregnancy in a good deal of perspective for him: accept the fact that she was pregnant or lose out on Cuddy. But it still made him feel somewhat anxious.

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, he scooted forward and reached for his coffee. He took a grateful couple of sips, savouring the strong taste and noting that Cuddy had made it exactly how he liked it - black, one sugar. "Hmm," he said as he placed the cup back down onto the coffee table.

He thought about Cuddy's question for a moment while he sat back and began tucking into his third pancake. Though he'd decided to have fun, he hadn't actually gotten far enough into deciding what kind of fun that would be. What could they do in the middle of winter? House hated being outside too long in the cold, especially this time of year. Not to mention everything was covered in snow, which made walking for him especially difficult. So an outdoor activity was pretty much out of the question.

"I hate winter," he mused out aloud. "Too cold to do anything, to covered in snow to go anywhere, too Christmassy to avoid Christmas." He took another bite of his pancakes and thought for a few more seconds. "Bowling? Go to the cinema? Skeeball? Did I tell you I hate winter?"

Cuddy worked steadily on her pancakes while House considered fun activities. Now that she was fully awake she found she was actually quite hungry. Finding out that her kitchen was still in one piece helped her relax and enjoy the food, too. It was a mess, true, but nothing that couldn't be washed or swept up. And nothing that couldn't wait until after she'd eaten.

"I got that impression," she said, reaching for her milk. She enjoyed winter herself, in small doses. She loved the way the snow looked. She loved the chill air on her cheeks when she went skiing or ice skating...not that she had the opportunity to do those things much anymore. And she really loved curling up in front of a fire on a cold, snowy night.

She took a long drink and set the glass back on the table. She didn't particularly want to see a movie. It would easier to stay home, nice and cozy, and watch a video. Skeeball wasn't all that appealing either.

"Pool?" she suggested. "Not as in swimming pool but as in pool table. There's a couple of nicer clubs in the area that have a billiard room."

"What, don't fancy skinny dipping again?" House teased. But then he added with a raise of an eyebrow, "You play pool? Meaning, you actually know how to play pool?"

Anyone could play pool, after all, if it just involved whacking balls and sinking them. And then, of course, there was the whole bit about whether you had good aim or not, and if you knew how to line up your shots. But there was whacking balls with cues for fun and there was playing pool. House definitely knew how to play pool, though he hadn't played in a long while, and he definitely hadn't played pool with a woman in a long while either.

Pool, however, sounded good. Relaxing, fun, and it meant staying inside somewhere warm - and if the billiard rooms were associated with a bar, beer. And maybe even bar food, which would be even more of a bonus. That sounded like a good enough combination to him.

"Okay, pool it is," he decided. He forked up some more pancake and dabbed it into the maple syrup. As he chewed, his eyes landed on the photo of him up on the mantelpiece. As much as he hated pictures of himself, he supposed that wasn't too bad a photo. There'd been worse. It had surprised the hell out of him last night to see that picture up there, but now it made him feel... he wasn't sure. Glad, he supposed. Important and significant to Cuddy. He liked that feeling.

"I take it you got the photos developed," he said, nodding towards the picture.

"I haven't played in ages but yes, I know how."

Cuddy hadn't played pool in a long time but she'd always enjoyed it. She liked that it wasn't about speed or strength. Pool required skill and intelligence. She was actually pretty good at figuring the angles, planning a shot. Her problem was that she tended to hit the ball too softly or to not hit it squarely. Still, she might not be Minnesota Fats but she could usually hold her own.

She nodded at his agreement, her mouth full of pancake. She'd finished the last bite and was eyeing the plate of remaining pancakes, wondering if she could justify eating another one. She was still hungry but she knew she'd be angry with herself if she pigged out. Her eyes fell on the strawberries and she decided plain fruit would be acceptable. She grabbed a berry and sank her teeth into it, looking up with a surprised expression when House mentioned the pictures. She followed his gaze to the framed photo she had on the mantel.

"Almost as soon as we got home," she said. Even with the way the trip had ended, and what had happened after that, she had some wonderful memories from Europe. Having the pictures helped her remember the best parts of the trip.

She wiped her hands and pushed up to her feet. She walked to the little table by her easy chair and grabbed a couple packets of photos our of the drawer. She walked back to the coffee table and held the packages out only to snatch them back to her chest before he could take them. She'd gotten all the pictures developed...including certain intimate shots from a certain hotel room.

"Just remember--some of those pictures are never to be seen by any other living being," she warned, holding out the pictures again.

House was surprised all over again when Cuddy said she'd gotten the photos developed right after they returned home. He wondered why she would, given how their vacation had turned out. Maybe she'd just been masochistic. Or maybe she'd wanted to remember the good times. Or maybe she'd simply not wanted to have the films go to waste.

He was chewing on another mouthful and set his fork down to take the photos when Cuddy handed them to him - and looked up at her when she suddenly jerked them away again. A slow smile crept across his face. Without offering a response, he merely took the photos from her with a smirk and set his plate aside on the couch while putting the photos on his lap. After wiping his hands on his sweater, he lifted the first packet of pictures and opened them.

He went through them slowly, frowning at how horrible he looked in some of them, snorting with amusement at others, outright chuckling at one particular picture he'd taken of Cuddy and himself by holding the camera out. The picture was a bit fuzzy, but the manic expression on his face accompanied with the off guard look on Cuddy's was priceless.

Setting those ones aside once he'd finished looking through them, he picked up the second packet and started through those. These were mainly of the first half of their trip, when they were in Paris and Geneva. "Ooh la la," he said when he finally came across one of the intimate pictures of Cuddy.

He studied each picture appreciatively, plucking one particular one that he liked most and setting it aside. "Said I wanted one for my wallet," he explained. He held it up for Cuddy to see, adding, "Hot."

He resumed looking through the pictures and when he came across the ones of he and Cuddy on his so-called 'kissing bridge', he found himself smiling a little to himself. That had been a good day, even though the vacation had started horribly. He'd had a lot of fun with Cuddy that day. He picked out a picture he liked, the close up of him pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek.

Once he'd gone through all of them, he had about six photos picked out in total: the two he'd already chosen, plus a silly one he and Cuddy had taken together on one of their days in Greece, another one when they were in Venice where House was standing behind Cuddy with his arms around her and she had a content smile on her face, and one of Cuddy herself that he'd taken in Spain. She was smiling broadly at the camera in mid-laugh, a complete natural and candid shot of her.

"Picture to send to your parents," he said, holding up a particular picture of Cuddy and himself that he'd taken, a close up again, Cuddy pulling a wide-eyed look probably because she hadn't been expecting the photo to be taken, while he was beside her with his mouth wide open towards Cuddy as if he was either shouting in her ear or ready to bite her. "'Meet my kid's daddy'."

Cuddy knelt down again by the table and ate another strawberry while House flipped through the pictures. She was actually a little nervous about him looking at the vacation photos. For her they were a reminder of the high points: the new places she'd seen, the wonderful food she'd eaten and most importantly, the fun they'd had. He tended to approach things from a more negative viewpoint, though. She was half-afraid he'd see the photos as a reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

She relaxed when she saw him smiling and even laughing at the pictures. Some of them really were very silly, either because she'd been caught off guard or because he was mugging for the camera and making it nearly impossible for her to get a decent picture of him. With him she had to use guerilla photography--sneaking up on him when he wasn't expecting it.

A faint blush rose to her cheeks when he waved one of the more revealing pictures at her. She still couldn't believe she'd allowed him to take those pictures. It wasn't even the amount of skin shown, it was the intimacy that made it embarassing. And yet, she felt almost...proud that he wanted a photo of like that of her. She'd still cut off his balls if he ever showed anyone but she didn't completely mind if he had it for himself.

"My mother would love that," she said dryly. She drained the rest of her milk and set the glass aside. In truth, her mother would love it. She'd love to have any kind of information about House, including pictures. Her mother called every week and every week she asked about Dr. Daddy. Cuddy had continued to refuse to say anything more about him because she hadn't known where she and House were going to end up as lovers or parents.

"She's beginning to suspect you're nothing more than a figment of my imagination." Cuddy chuckled to herself as she remembered a conversation from her trip home. "Either that or, somehow, she's got the idea you're gay."

House was just stretching forward to put the photos on the coffee table when Cuddy mentioned her mother. He glanced at her quizzically. She'd spoken to her mom about him? When? He thought about Cuddy's choice of words, though. Figment of Cuddy's imagination?

Maybe she'd told her mom over the phone. House supposed that probably meant her mom knew about the baby. Though, it left him wondering what she'd told her mom about him. And more than that, it sparked the thought in his head about his own parents. He hadn't given much thought at all about telling his parents yet, mainly because he didn't want to think about it.

House couldn't completely predict how they'd react to the new of him becoming a daddy, but he could definitely at least make assumptions. His mom, of course, would probably be over the moon. She'd always wanted a grandchild, though she'd long since given up hope she'd get one. His dad, on the other hand... Well, that would be the biggest obstacle. It would probably end up being yet another thing his dad would find fault in House for.

Pulled out his thoughts, he raised his brows when Cuddy said her mom had suspicious he was gay. "Oh, yeah," he sarcastically agreed. "I'm not just gay. I'm gayer than gay." He paused, giving Cuddy a curious look. "Why would she think I'm gay?"

"Oh, who knows," Cuddy said with an exasperated sigh. She reached for the photos and started sorting them back into the packages although she found herself stopping to look at them as she did. She needed to get them put into an album where they'd available for easier viewing whenever she wanted. Just one more thing to put on her to-do list.

"I guess she's just looking for an explanation for our situation," she continued, setting the picture packets aside and looking back at House. "To her, the normal way to have a baby is to be married. Or at least engaged. I'm not so she's trying to figure out an alternative explanation. I guess having a baby with a gay friend makes sense to her."

Cuddy didn't know exactly how that would make sense to her mother--she honestly didn't know where the woman came up with some of her ideas--but since she'd repeatedly refused to explain she supposed her mother had been forced to look for alternatives, no matter how strange they might seem.

"I haven't told them anything about you," she admitted with a small shrug. "I haven't told them anything about us. I wasn't even sure what was going to happen with us, and saying nothing seemed simpler than trying to explain everything."

Maybe to Cuddy's mom, having a baby with a gay friend made sense, but it made no sense to House. Well, maybe it did, a little. One way Cuddy could have had a baby was to get a friend to donate... which had been something he thought maybe Cuddy was going to ask of him that time she came up into his office. She'd just stood by his desk, looking like she wanted to say or ask him something, and he'd prompted her to spit it out. And all she'd said was thank you for the injections. He hadn't believed that was all she came up to ask him. And now, come to think of that... well, he wasn't sure what to think about that, especially now she was having his baby.

He was only half listening to the rest of what Cuddy said, caught up in his own thoughts, but he had heard her. He snapped back to attention and gave her an assessing look. He was mildly surprised she hadn't told her parents much about him, then again he could understand why she hadn't at the same time, especially if she'd spoken to them within the last month.

He just shrugged because he got what Cuddy was saying. "Well, when you do tell them about me, I'm sure they'll think you've scored a real catch," he said sarcastically.

He was used to people not warming to him. He assumed people wouldn't, and there hadn't been a single girlfriend he'd had whose parents liked him much. He doubted Cuddy's parents would be much different. But worse for them, or maybe for him, he was going to be the dad of their grandkid, which made everything a lot more difficult in terms of dealing with... well, what would they be? Not in-laws. Except kind of. There were going to be things like birthday parties he couldn't avoid and Christmases and god knows what else that came with the turf of having a kid. He then realised what he was thinking about and he gave himself a mental shake. When had he actually started to accept that Cuddy was pregnant, apart from knowing he had to?

"So, I'll guess they'll find out exactly how much of a catch I am when they invade your hospital room the day Junior makes his or her Imperial March into the world." He sat forward to fetch another pancake. He was beginning to get full, though. This would probably be the last one.

"I have a question for you," he said once he sat back. He dabbed the pancake into the syrup, eyeing Cuddy all the while. "That time you came up into my office to thank me for the injections." He took a bite of his pancake. "What were you really wanting to say?"

OOC: Posted for Cuddy because LJ was on downtime at the time she tried to post this!

Cuddy didn't bother to respond his remark about being a real catch. House had no illusions about how other people reacted to him, which was mostly negative. Of course, he tended to deliberately provoke those negative reactions. He never really gave anyone a chance. She knew her parents would be willing to give him a chance if only because he was the father of their grandchild. Family mattered to them, and they'd try to make a place in their family for him. How it would all turn out, though, she couldn't begin to guess.

"You may not have to wait that long," she said. "Mom's talking about coming out before Junior's born. To 'help'."

Cuddy was torn about the prospect. Her mother would have the best intentions. She'd probably even have some good suggestions given that she'd given birth to three children of her own. But Cuddy had always been independent minded. She liked doing things her way...even when her way wasn't the best way. She didn't like anyone interfering. Still, there was no way she could tell her mother that and risk hurting her feelings. She'd either have to come up with a good lie that would keep her mother away but happy or she'd have to prepare herself for her mother's help.

She stared at House a moment, needing a moment to remember exactly which day he was talking about. That time had been really difficult--deciding to proceed with the fertility treatments, the unsuccessful dinner with Wilson, and House finding out what she was doing. She'd had some difficult decisions to make.

"You told me I should choose a donor I respected and liked. You seemed almost...disappointed? offended? that I hadn't asked you."

She'd considered asking House, of course she had. He might be a bastard but he was also brilliant. Unique. Her child could do worse for a biological father. She hadn't asked him because, well, nothing was ever simple with House. And ultimately, she'd been fairly certain he'd refuse, and she wasn't sure he wouldn't be right to do so.

"I wanted to tell you I did respect and like you. I wanted to tell you I had considered asking you to be the donor. But I was afraid I'd just complicated things." She picked up the stem of a strawberry and twirled it between her fingers, then looked at him again with a small shrug. "You would've said no, right? Didn't seem to be any point in discussing it."

"I guess now would be a good time to schedule in 'away' time," House replied. "Interfering Moms getting all clucky over their daughters breeding. Not sure I want to be part of that pecking order."

Who knew, though. Things had a very annoying and unsettling way of turning out completely not how House planned them. For all he knew, he could end up running into Mommy Cuddy and having to deal with both her grandmotherly cluckiness and her most probably passionate dislike of him. Not a good combination.

But thoughts of that left his mind when Cuddy replied to his question. He just watched her with an unreadable expression. That whole time had been odd. He hadn't know what to really feel about it. On the one hand, he had wanted the best for Cuddy and had gone out of his way to help her with that. But on the other, he'd been more than a little terrified of losing her attention should she become pregnant. And maybe he had been a bit disappointed that she hadn't asked him. Not because he wanted a baby, but because, well, he liked to think Cuddy respected and liked him. And in a weird way, if he'd been the donor, then at least he'd have had an excuse to continually invade her life and not risk losing her.

He looked down to his plate. All of that seemed like such a long time ago now. Before the shooting, though not that long before. Circumstances had been so different then, too. He hadn't been in a relationship with Cuddy and knew from a medical point of view that should he have donated, he didn't actually have to have anything to do with the kid. But this was awkward now. He kind of wished he hadn't brought it up.

"I... would've given you a hard time about it," he answered noncommittally. He met Cuddy's gaze again. "I wanted you to do the right thing and not the stupid thing. And the stupid thing would've been to get some sperm from some moron and have a half-assed baby. You know you would've wanted better than that. If you can choose your partners, you can choose your sperm whether it comes in a cup or fresh out of the sack. Those morons you had picked out where exactly that - morons. You deserved better than that."

Cuddy was sure he would've given her a hard time if she'd asked him. He'd certainly given her a hard time over her other possible donors. He had been supportive, she had to give him that. In his own way, he'd done his best to help her including giving her the shots without making a huge deal of it.

She smiled faintly at the mental image of a half-assed baby. The thing was, her definition of a moron didn't necessarily match his. And besides, she was only looking at the genetics. An anonymous donor meant no psychological influence from the biological father which, in her mind, meant that even if the father was a moron, the child wouldn't be.

"I deserved better," she agreed. Not better than a moron but better than anonymous. Having a child with no father had never been her first choice. Funny how circumstances had turned all her plans on their head. She'd decided to have an anonymous, non-House donor and ended up with House as a father.

"And eventually, I got better," she said with a pointed look at him. Whether he believed it or not, she knew this was better.

She got to her feet and gathered up her dishes. "Guess I'll get started on cleaning the kitchen. It could take a while."

House nodded when Cuddy agreed with him, but then just looked at her when she said she'd gotten better. Without any warning, he felt a sudden stab of guilt. It was probably the residue of having spent the last month separated from Cuddy bleeding into his conscience, but hearing Cuddy say she'd gotten better when he knew he hadn't even really given her that in terms of this baby made him feel, well, guilty. Better, how? he wanted to ask. Their relationship was so volatile and had gone through so many ups and downs already. How many more was it going to go through? How many more explosive fights were they going to have, and how many more times was he going to see Cuddy crying her eyes out because of him, and how many more arguments are they going to get into over this baby?

He didn't ask her what he was thinking, but he followed her out of the room with his eyes, then turned his gaze to the TV with a frown. Sometimes, House had moments of realising he was a really shitty partner at times. And as much as he insisted on being shitty when he was being stubborn and argumentative, being shitty wasn't what he actually wanted to be to Cuddy. He loved her, he wanted to treat her right, he hated seeing her upset. Though they'd made up for the last month, House still felt bad about it. He felt bad not just for himself, but for Cuddy. She hadn't exactly been fair on him as far as he was concerned, but he hadn't exactly been very nice to her, either. He'd said some things he really wished he could take back. But he couldn't. He heaved a deep sigh. God damn his conscience, coming out to play with him like this at times he least expected it to.

He swiped his coffee up from the coffee table and downed half of it - it was almost lukewarm by now - then stood up and headed out to the kitchen. He set the coffee cup down with the other plates that were waiting to be scraped and stacked in the dishwasher, and moved up behind Cuddy while she stood at the sink. He lifted his hands to her upper arms and rubbed them, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck and settled his chin on her shoulder. He then wrapped his arms around her middle and cuddled her close in a guilty hug.

He didn't really know how to say he was sorry for anything he'd done, or that he wished he actually was better to her at times, so he settled on remarking as he watched her rinse a plate under the sink, "What is the point of a dishwasher if you have to wash the dishes yourself first, anyway?"

Cuddy set the frying pan in the sink to soak a bit. She glanced around at the mess House had made and decided it would be easier to get all the dishes taken care of before starting on the countertops and floor. Surprisingly, she wasn't even all that bothered by the mess. She didn't like it when people cluttered up her space but he had made breakfast so she had to cut him some slack.

Despite her occasional meltdowns, she was willing to cut him some slack and more often than he might realize. She certainly gave him a lot of leeway at the hospital. She was trying to give him as much wiggle room in their personal lives. She knew he could sometimes be even harder on himself than she was on him. She knew he took the relationship and the responsibility of fatherhood seriously even though he often acted as though he didn't. She had to trust that if she could keep herself in check and not nag him, eventually he'd come to accept it all under his own power.

She started to rinse off the dishes, smiling as he came up behind her. "Good question. With all the technology we have, seems like there should be a dishwasher that does it all. Like a washing machine that sorts the clothes and a dryer that folds them when they're done." She turned her head and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Or maybe that's what you're supposed to be here for," she teased. She turned in his arms, holding her wet hands up to the side so she wouldn't drip on him. She leaned forward for a kiss and smiled as she pulled back.

"Speaking of which, would you mind getting the broom and sweeping the floor while I get the rest of this cleaned up?"

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