Chapter 1

"Cuddy's pregnant," House told Wilson, walking into his office and sitting down. Wilson let go of his initial impulse to ignore him and stared at him across the expanse of his desk.

"Wha- uh- Is it yours?"

"Nice."

"I'm sorry, I'm just… Wow. I'm at a loss for words," Wilson admitted. "This is great! I mean, maybe. It's, like, huge. It's forever. It could be good for you. Or not. You could totally screw it up … Fuck."

"Congratulations," House replied. "You just went through every reaction I went through in about a tenth of the time."

"How's Cuddy?" Wilson asked.

"Seems okay. Hard to tell."

"Well, what did she say?"

"About being pregnant?"

"No, about pulling troops out of Afghanistan. Yes, about being pregnant!"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

House shrugged.

"Well, when did she tell you?"

"She didn't."

Wilson gave House a look of complete confusion. "Then how do you know she's pregnant?"

"She is. She has all the symptoms," House explained.

Wilson visibly relaxed. "Oh, man, House, you had me freaking out there."

"You should be freaking out! I may procreate!"

"May. Doubtful," Wilson said calmly. "She's probably not pregnant."

"She is," House asserted.

"What are these completely conclusive symptoms?" Wilson asked, skeptical.

"Exhaustion."

"Yeah, why would the Dean of Medicine who has a small child and an emotionally stunted boyfriend be exhausted?"

"Why would she suddenly be more exhausted? Nothing has changed."

"What else?"

"Nausea."

"For how long?"

"Last three days."

"So, she has a stomach bug, which would also explain the exhaustion."

"Extreme nipple sensitivity!" House proclaimed, closing the case.

Wilson sighed. "Though I am aware that I am stepping into a metaphorical minefield…. Aren't nipples supposed to be sensitive?"

"They are. And hers are. And she loves when I… sensitize them." Wilson put his face in his hands. "But now, suddenly, I can't get near them. They're too sensitive."

Wilson peeked up from his palms. "Did it ever occur to you that you think she loves when you 'sensitize' them, but maybe she's just been humoring you and is now tired of it?"

House and Wilson had a stare down.

"You've obviously never had sex with me," House answered.

"Thank God for small blessings," Wilson replied. "Maybe it's hormonal. They get more sensitive right around… you know."

"'You know?' No, right around what, Wilson?" Wilson made a weird hand gesture and an embarrassed face. House smirked. "You're a doctor, man, and you can't say period?"

"I can say it. It's just Cuddy."

"You can't refer to Cuddy's period?" Wilson's face got embarrassed again and House laughed. "Oh, this is good stuff. I can use this."

"Please, don't."

"It's like asking the wind not to blow, Wilson. The sun not to shine."

"You're missing the point!" Wilson shouted. "Maybe she has the flu and is about to get her – you know. She might not be pregnant."

"She's pregnant. I just need to get her to realize and/or admit it."

"Well, it's good you've formed this into a weird sort of game to distract yourself from processing the gravity of the situation. That bodes well."

House stopped grinning and looked at Wilson. He bit his thumbnail. "I'm freaking out."

There was a minute of silence. "I know. Just think of it as your biggest puzzle yet."

"How to not totally fuck up a child? It's unsolvable."

Wilson shrugged. "So you'll fuck it up. Maybe it'll help fix you a little more."

"You should write pro-life bumper stickers."

[H] [H] [H]

House was sitting at his desk, staring out the window and twisting a rubber band when he heard his door open. He turned in his chair to see Cuddy standing there with her coat and purse.

"I'm going home," she informed him.

He looked her up and down. "Okay."

"You coming?"

"Yeah. In a bit."

There was a beat of silence. Cuddy studied his face. "It's okay if you don't want to yet. I know you like to be alone sometimes."

This was weird, he concluded. She knew. But she didn't know that he knew. He narrowed his eyes at her a little. "Do you want to be alone?"

"No!" she said adamantly.

"Okay."

"Okay."

"So why are you suddenly giving me explicit permission to be alone?"

Cuddy shrugged. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't think you had to rush home if you didn't want to yet."

"You wanted to make sure of that today, for some reason?"

"I was being… Considerate. It won't happen again," she huffed.

"Everyone likes to be alone sometimes. It doesn't mean anything," he told her.

"I know. I didn't say that it did," she replied.

"It doesn't mean I always prefer to be alone."

"I know."

"I don't."

"I know."

"Cuddy."

She sighed. "I just want you to know you have space. I'm not gonna take away your space."

"You're suddenly worried that I'm worried about that?" he pressed.

"House… I'm just… I'm-"

The door swooshed open and Wilson stepped in. He was startled to see Cuddy, having missed her standing in the far corner of the office. "Hey," he said to them both.

"Hey," they replied in unison.

"Bad time?" he asked, hopeful.

"No," Cuddy assured him. "I was just heading out." She made her way back over to the door.

"Cuddy," House called out. She looked back at him. "I'll be there soon." She nodded.

"No hurry." She walked out.

Wilson studied House. "So? What was that? Did you guys talk about it?"

"Not in a psychologically healthy way," House replied.

"Is she okay?"

"Can't tell."

"Are you okay?"

House furrowed his brow. "That's pretty woven into whether she's okay."

Wilson smiled. "That, my misanthropic friend, is progress."

[H] [H] [H]

House was in his office arguing with Foreman when a text from Cuddy came in.

Are you busy?

He gladly used the opportunity to text her back, showing Foreman how completely uninterested he was in what he had to say.

Kinda, he replied.

Too bad, she wrote back. Foreman was getting more irritated with every chime of his phone and this delighted House no end.

Ur the one who makes me have actual cases. What do u need? he wrote back

He held a finger up to pause Foreman's rant when the reply came. I need you to come down to my office and fuck me on my desk. House blinked, shook his head a little, and reread. He was immediately excited, but then suspicious of this taboo topic.

Plz tell me this isn't a joke…

It's not a joke. Please tell me you're on your way… Still he was skeptical. She had never, ever, been even remotely open to this idea.

It srsly hurts 2 get an erection like this only 2 b cruelly denied, C.

I promise nothing but good things will happen to your erection. ;)

House's mind raced, bouncing between hormonal fantasies about what was going to happen in about five minutes and logistically trying to explain it.

"Hormones!" he yelled suddenly. Foreman gave him a confused look. "Cancel the surgery. But you're wrong too. It isn't auto-immune. She's using hormone replacement therapy, for menopause."

"She didn't list that as a medication," Foreman had to yell after him because House was sprinting for the elevator.

"She's using a topical cream. People never think of that stuff as medication. Go ask her."

"Where are you going?" Foreman asked as House boarded the elevator.

House grinned as the doors slid shut. "Emergency. There's a fire. I need to put it out." And Foreman was left sorting out another metaphor.

[H] [H] [H]

House walked into Cuddy's office and she stood up immediately. She looked… well, horny. Her lips were already parted and he saw a flush to her neck and cheeks. She smirked at him. "Shut the door and check the lock twice," she ordered. House obliged and then walked over to her, dropping his cane somewhere along the way so that when he got behind her desk and they faced each other, he was able to circle her waist with both hands and bring her hips against his. He looked down at her and they stood there, their breaths mingling between them.

"What's the hold up?" she teased.

"Sorry. I just have about twelve different fantasy versions of this, but in all of them you are slightly resistant," he confessed.

"Well, I'm not resistant," she informed him bossily. "I want my ass on this desk and you inside of me. The sooner the better."

House exhaled. "I can work with that."

He bent to grasp the hem of her skirt, working it slowly up her legs as it tightly hugged her curves. He felt her breath along his chin as she nuzzled his jaw. He gave a final authoritative tug and her skirt was bunched at her waist. He pulled her panties down and lifted her onto her desk. Cuddy, meanwhile, was undoing his belt and pants in an almost frenzied way. She was already moaning and rolling her hips against him. "God, House, I need you," she said, almost too loudly considering their location.

"I will get you that expense report, Cuddy. You don't need to raise your voice," he loudly teased as his pants dropped to the floor.

Cuddy pulled her face back and met his teasing eyes "Now!" she ordered.

House pushed against her entrance, but hesitated. "I can't get you a fake expense report," he murmured in her ear, "and fuck you simultaneously."

"Prioritize," she told him, wrapping her legs around him, her heels pushing against his ass. House slid inside of her, as ordered. Cuddy's head lolled against his shoulder like she'd just experienced the most intense relief. She hooked her arms under his and held his shoulders, hanging off of him as he moved into her again and again. He couldn't believe how she felt. He'd entered the room two minutes ago and yet she was so wet and hot and tight around him, pushing her pelvis out to meet his every thrust. He was marveling at the power of hormones when she came, completely unexpectedly to him. She was so on the edge it had taken almost nothing and she was biting his neck and letting out a high-pitch hum against his skin. He felt her muscles clenching and releasing around him and moaned at the ceiling. Cuddy leaned back, unbuttoning her top. Her breasts were perfect soft mounds emerging from the silky fabric, but - House noted - spilling out over the top of her bra. If he wasn't convinced before, an immediate orgasm and sudden D cup was sealing the deal. He was processing all of this until Cuddy shut his brain off completely. She sprawled back across the desk, propping herself on her hands, looking at him completely unsated despite her release. "If you stop fucking me before I tell you to, you're fired," she informed him her eyes hooded by half-closed lids.

Being ordered to continuously fuck Cuddy… Well, that's the reason he took this job, for Christ's sake.

His hands slid up her thighs, taut beneath her stockings, and around to her ass, which he pulled even closer to the edge of the desk. He leaned over her and propped himself on his arms, his face nuzzling at the pillowy meeting of her breasts. He kissed the flesh that rose out of her bra, kissed her chest, ran his tongue along her collarbone, all the while entering her as deeply as he could, only to begrudgingly exit in order to have the sensation again. Cuddy was so overcome she eventually just lay back flat on the desk. Her free hand now pulled her bra down and House needed no further invitation, his lips closing around her nipple. He flicked his tongue along her and she pushed his head away, moaning but unable to stand it. So he kissed the general vicinity. Then he heard the cry rising up in her throat the very moment it began. He clamped a hand over her mouth, for fear she'd embarrass herself far more than intended in a hormonal mania. This seemed to just turn her on more and he saw her eyes widen for a moment, clench shut, then open again to just watch him kissing her breasts with abandon. Their eyes met and he closed his, powerless to resist basking in the pleasure of her sex all around him, her body sliding along his, her breasts in his mouth. When his lids slid shut and he sighed he felt her teeth again, grazing his palm, then her mouth opening wide as she groaned into his hand, her back arching to get him into her more, then her legs weaving back and over his shoulders to get him still deeper. She moaned with every rapid exhale, so it almost sounded like crying, but her body shuddered around and under him in a way that was purely sexual. He couldn't believe he was holding out, but he was both fascinated and under orders. He slowed his movements a little, pushing into her more gently as her shaking body recovered.

"That's not fucking," she chided with a breathless voice.

"Cuddy, you know what this is," he started to tease her, through his own gasping breaths. "Should we talk about this?"

She sat up, pushing against his chest to force him into a stand too. "Talking is not fucking," she answered. She pushed him down to sit in her chair and promptly straddled him, guiding him inside of her again. Okay, if she doesn't want to talk about it, fine by me, he thought as she threw her head back and began riding him, her breasts bouncing against his face. So instead he said, "Damn, Cuddy, you are so hot," and she pulled at his hair and rode him harder.

"I wanna make you come," she told him, again almost too loudly. He was trying to think of something to say to cover her indiscretion, when she continued. "Just thinking about making you come makes me almost come." Jesus, he couldn't even stay in any sort of logical mindset with her acting like this, talking like this. He had never even paid for sex like this before.

"I…mmhmm… God, Cuddy…. I…" he couldn't think, couldn't talk, couldn't resist much longer.

"You can stop, House," she told him, grabbing his face in her hands and looking deeply into his eyes. "I'll just fuck you now." She smiled and pushed down on him so perfectly, and he inhaled sharply. She rose and slid down on him again and he groaned. Again, and he clenched his eyes shut, his fingers digging into her hips. She let out a small whimper and slid down his length once more and it was all over and he was gone, floating somewhere with rapidly zig-zagging stars that elicited the most ecstatic feeling of release. At the sensation of his orgasm Cuddy came again, calling his name softly into the air and sliding her fingers down his chest. She continued grinding down on him, but more and more slowly, until they sat in a half-dressed sweaty heap on her chair, gasping and sighing and already replaying the whole mind-blowing thing in their minds.

"Do you wanna go out to lunch?" she muttered again his shirt. "I want pizza."

"You want pizza," he repeated, and she nodded against his chest. "Cuddy, is there something you want to tell me?"

"Nope," she replied.

"Nothing is weird about the last fifteen minutes and you wanting food you never eat?"

"Sex and pizza. You complaining?" she asked.

"No," he said, pulling her close. "I'm not gonna complain," he told her in code, sliding a hand up the back of her shirt to feel her skin. "About anything."

[H] [H] [H]

Rachel went to play and Cuddy stood at the sink, rinsing dishes. "Cuddy, how long are we going to avoid this?" he finally asked.

"Avoid what?" she asked, feigning confusion.

House walked over to his coat to retrieve the pregnancy test he'd stolen from the hospital that day. He slammed it on the counter like a dare. Cuddy looked at it, then at him. She said nothing.

"You're inexplicably exhausted," he began.

"I'm working hard! And I have a kid and," she gestured at him, "another kid."

"Your boobs are booby trapped."

"It's hormonal," she said. House raised his eyebrows. "But not that kind of hormonal."

"Cuddy, this level of denial… It's Housian."

They stared at each other.

"We're not ready for this, House."

House grinned. "Twenty years, an infarction, addiction, rehab, adoption, making up, breaking up, and several near-death experiences… Cuddy, we're ready for anything."

Cuddy smiled weakly back at him. Then she puked in the sink.

House walked over and rubbed her back gently as she heaved again. He turned on the water and Cuddy splashed her face and drank from her cupped hands. She took a few deep breaths, still bent over the sink, then stood up. "Gimme the damn test."

She walked into the small bathroom off the kitchen, peed on the stick, and reemerged, setting the stove timer for 5 minutes. She leaned against the counter and stared at House, seated in a kitchen chair. He reached an arm out to her and when she took his hand he pulled her onto his lap. Cuddy finally broke the silence.

"What are you hoping for right now?"

House shrugged. "Doesn't change the outcome," he reminded her, ever-practical.

"It affects what I'm hoping for," she told him.

House laid his forehead against her chest. "I don't know, Cuddy. I have to just see the results and react from there. I don't work in hypotheticals."

"You must have some feeling right now. Some way you want it to go."

He looked up at her. "What do you want me to want?" he asked.

She gave a half-hearted grin. "What I want."

"Which is?"

"I don't know," she laughed.

The timer beeped. They grinned at each other.

"I can't do it. You do it," she told him, standing up. House chuckled and limped into the bathroom.

"Where's the box, Cuddy? I don't know what I'm looking for," he said, walking out carrying the test and moving to the box she'd left on the counter. Cuddy could see from there that the second line was present, bright, unmistakable. She watched him.

He looked at the box, looked at the test, blinked, and looked up at her. His eyes were wide, searching hers. She silently pleaded with him to say the right thing, to not taint this from the start with his… way.

House swallowed hard. "Do you wanna have a baby with me?" he asked. "Because I think it could be interesting to see if I can love another person as crazily as I love you."