A/N - So, here's the sequel to Maybe Baby. I'm hoping it will just as long, if not a little longer than the original. I think you can follow this even if you didn't read the original, but still, I'd recommend reading that one, first.

The big difference is I will no longer be following the show. The team has been dissolved, and they will be filled in with OC's. Don't worry though, folks, just like Maybe Baby, they won't be playing a huge role in this one. I now step completely into my own alternate universe.

Thanks for coming along for the ride, and as always, I hope you really enjoy it!

I don't own House, but boy, after that mind fuck a few weeks ago, I really wish I did, because House and Cuddy would still be together. I must put my faith in DS and Co, who own House, which means I could have it ripped and torn asunder.

My Baby

Chapter One

"House," she said, beaming at him. "I love you.'

The bottom fell out of House's stomach, and his heart lurched. Anxiety and trepidation overtook him, and for a moment, it caused him to freeze in place. His baby. His baby. Blood started flowing to his limbs again, and he stepped forward, his feet seeming to weigh more than they did, like they were encased in concrete. She held out that simple piece of plastic towards him, so that he could read it, and there it was, plain as day – the clearly marked pink plus. He glanced at her, and he forced a grin; he wasn't going to ruin this moment for her with his own mixed emotions.

She threw her arms around his neck, and she drew his head down, kissing him deeply. "Thank-you," her voice was breathless as she broke away from him. Her eyes were glazed with lust and desire, and most importantly, happiness. Her fingers clutched at him, her joy vibrating through her body as she continued to shower him with kisses. He realized that he could see the faint outline of her nipples through the thin fabric of her lacy camisole, and desire over took him. He pulled her even closer to him, and he met her kisses with equal fervor, slowly teasing and nipping her lips. His hands dropped to her waist, and he slipped them under the hem of her shirt, caressing the silky skin with the tips of his fingers, dancing across the surface like he would the keys of a piano.

She made a small purring sound, and she pressed herself as close to him as she could, molding her body to his. Her hands lightly caressed his neck and shoulders, holding his head down so she could continue to kiss him. His hands dipped into the waistband of her shorts, palming the firm globes of her ass, holding her in place while his groin pressed into her belly. The purring sound she was making became a soft growl of pleasure and need, and she began to use her body to push him out the door and into her bedroom, still kissing him deeply.

He couldn't get enough of her taste, and he wanted more. He made a deep growling sound himself, taking a hold of the hem of her top, breaking apart from her kisses long enough to pull it over her head, tossing it behind him. He gazed lovingly at the two beautiful handfuls of flesh in front of him, licking his suddenly dry lips. Tits and ass, yup, that was him to a 'T'.

He lost the battle with temptation, and he caressed the fleshy mounds with loving care. He kept his touch feather light, teasing her skin and tweaking her nipples, watching as the tips became even harder, the nipples becoming a dusky rose under his ministrations. He lowered his head, nuzzling the soft skin with his stubbled jaw, finally taking the hardened pebble of her nipple into his mouth, briefly sucking it. "Gotta take advantage of these babies while I still can," he mumbled against her chest, lightly squeezing the other breast, thumbing that nipple. "Before they go in to the milk business."

She laughed at his joke, a rich, throaty laugh he only heard when she was really and truly happy. Her chest jiggled with the effort, doing interesting things to the skin under neath his lips and fingers. He lightly squeezed the nipple between his thumb and forefinger while sucking on the other one, drawing a gasp from her. After several moments of teasing and tormenting her, he reluctantly pulled his mouth away from her breast, giving the nipple one last wet lick before working his way back up to her mouth.

He steered her towards the bed, need overtaking his brain. His erection was fully engorged, and all he could think about was burying it in that sweet, secret place between her thighs. He lowered her to the bed, giving her a moment to get comfortable while he stripped out of his boxers in haste. Once the confining article of clothing was removed, he stretched his body over hers, relishing the feel of her skin brushing against his.

It never ceased to amaze him how well their bodies meshed together, especially given how ungainly and misshapen his body was, especially in comparison to hers – so lithe, lean, beautiful...and whole. He was fascinated how wonderful her body was, how it went soft when he went hard. How fragile it seemed under all the weights she carried on it, and how strong it really was, to carry those weights, both emotional and physical. It was so flexible, able to fold and bend to accommodate him better. He really couldn't get enough of it.

He tore his mouth away from hers, and he began kissing down her body, tasting the salty tang of her skin as licked and nipped a trail of fire down her throat and to her chest and abdomen. She moaned, deep in her throat, arching her back as he made his way down her still taut abdomen, delving his tongue into the tiny indent of her navel before moving farther down her body. His scalp tingled as her fingernails raked through his hair, her breathing quickening in anticipation of what he was doing.

He tugged at her panties, drawing them down her long, toned legs, his fingers brushing her skin wherever he could; it was a drug – better than vicodin - and he couldn't get enough. He crawled back up her body, kissing up her legs from her ankle to knee to inner thigh, pausing to nuzzle the sweet slickness between the petals of her sex, tasting her essence before settling his hips in the cradles of her thighs. The head of his cock nudged her lower lips, and he kissed her deeply as he thrust himself deeply into her quim in a rush of silk and fire.

She moved against him in a slow rhythm that they had been intent on perfecting for six weeks now. She matched his movements well, meeting his thrusts with equal enthusiasm, allowing him to drive himself deeper and deeper into her. Their kisses matched the rhythm of their hips, and sooner than he wanted to, he began to feel the familiar tightening in his testicles, warning him that the end was near.

He tried to slow himself down, but her grinding became impatient, and he found himself moving even more quickly, his thrusts becoming harder as she vocalized her wants and demands. Before he knew it, he threw back his head and he roared his release, stars dancing behind his eyelids as his body convulsed, pulsing his seed deep within her. He allowed himself to slump against her, a little unwilling to move his body in the wake of his orgasm, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He began to feel himself softening inside her, and he quickly rolled off, realizing that in his haste, she had been denied her own release. He quickly reached between her legs, and with his nimble fingers, he began to stroke her, thrumming the tiny nub with his thumb until she convulsed around him, mewling her own orgasm.

The air was thick with the musk of their lovemaking. "Sorry," he managed to stammer, rolling over on his back and cradling her to his chest.

"'S'okay," she mumbled, snuggling up closer to his chest, rubbing it with her face while toying with the grizzled chest hair. He lightly stroked her hair, slipping the silky strands through his fingers, his blue eyes fixed on the ceiling. An odd, post-coital silence filled the room, and while he stared at the ceiling, nervous, dark thoughts wove their way into his mind, whispering seductively to him all the things that could go wrong.

He must have squeezed her elbow, because she stirred. "What's wrong," she sat up, brushing her hair from her eyes.

He shook his head. "Nothing," he told her, slipping his hand behind her head, putting gentle pressure on her, drawing her down into a kiss. "Just thinking," he spoke against her lips, "you're gonna be late in meeting your mother for lunch."

Her eyes widened slightly as she tried to crane her neck around him to peer at the clock. "Oh, crap!" she gasped, crawling off of him. "You're right!" She rolled off the bed, making her way back to the bathroom.

"It was worth it, right?" he called after her, folding his arms behind his head, crossing his feet at the ankles, arrogantly taking up the middle of the bed.

She popped her head out of the bathroom, and she grinned. "To-tal-ly," she sounded out each syllable slowly, giving him a small wink before disappearing back in the bathroom. He stared at the closed door for a long moment, hearing the shower start to run. Then, his smile faltered. Everything had changed, and he didn't know if he could handle it without letting her down, and she deserved better than that.

He just didn't know if he could be the man she needed.

[H] [H] [H]

He opened the door to his apartment, struck by the fact that it was becoming unfamiliar. He was becoming so used to spending time at Cuddy's place that he had been neglecting his own. He dropped his backpack on the floor, knowing that it was lighter than it had been when he had packed it a few days ago. Small items, toiletries, and articles of clothing had begun migrating over to her place, and some of her things had drifted over to his. He'd even cleared out a drawer for her, even though he spent much more time at her place than she did at his. Some articles, like her toothbrush and some sweet smelling floral shampoo shared the same sink and show space as his, giving little hints that some sort of long term relationship had begun.

He looked around his space, and he sighed, sneezing at the musty dust that seemed to cover things. He began picking up a few items that were scattered around the floor, books and socks and such. He found a pair of baby pink thong panties peaking from underneath the couch, and he smiled at the memory of how they got there. He deposited the items in his bedroom, sighing a bit and scratching at the stubble on his cheek, deciding to sort them out later. From there, he limped into his kitchen, and he pulled his last beer out of his mostly empty fridge, frowning. He hated shopping, but he needed at least some bread and peanut butter, so he made a mental note to go out later and pick up a few things, including a new bottle of bourbon.

He came back into the living room, and just as he settled down on on his couch, someone began knocking on his door. "Come in, Wilson!" he called over his shoulder, turning the television on.

His best friend awkwardly came through the door, his arms loaded with two grocery bags. "A little help," he panted.

House clutched his thigh. "My leg hurts," he whined, causing Wilson to roll his eyes as he headed to House's kitchen. House heard him grunt he put the bags on the table, then Wilson came back in the living room, tossing a bag of chips to House. "Please tell me you have beer?" House looked at his friend, wide-eyed.

Wilson disappeared into the kitchen, then came out carrying a sixer of Bud Light. "Turn it over to the game," he said, "and I'll put these in the fridge."

"I love you," House told him, grinning, then he changed the channel. Settling on the couch, he opened the bag of chips. Wilson came out of the kitchen carrying a small Tupperware bowl and a beer. "What's that?" House asked, suddenly curious, shoving a few chips into his mouth as Wilson sat down on the other end of the couch.

"Spinach and artichoke dip," Wilson told him, humming indulgently as he popped a dip laden chip in his mouth. "Delicious," he purred, smacking his lips.

House glowered at him. "Are you sure you're not a woman," he asked Wilson seriously, glaring as he tried to dip his own chip in to the green-flecked white mixture. Wilson simply moved the container out of his reach.

His friend rolled his eyes, and House slumped against the sofa. The buzzer sounded, and the game began, so they watched in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Wilson huffed, then asked, "what's going on with you, House?" At House's wide-eyed, surprised look, Wilson sighed. "You're never around anymore, and you're always busy. You've been nervous since I got here; you keep fidgeting and tapping your feet," he looked at his friend, "and you're mind is ten-thousand miles away right now." He put another chip in his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. "You usually only get this way when you're on a case, and I know that you're not-"

"Cuddy's pregnant," House blurted out, unable to stop himself, startling Wilson.

"Wait, what? Seriously" House nodded morosely. Wilson found himself smiling. "You mean the IVF took? That's great news!" His eyes widened. I should go. Congratulate her-" He started to get up.

"You don't need to do anything," House growled, stopping him in mid-motioned. "No one else knows yet," he admonished Wilson. "So don't go blabbing to anyone." He glared daggers at his friend, driving his point home."

Wilson gave him an odd look. "Then, how did you find out?" Wilson asked, his brow furrowing in thought.

House hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Because," he began, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Because I'm the father," he sighed, raking his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes.

Wilson stared at him for a few moments, his mouth opening and closing rapidly while he tried to form his thoughts. "You," he stammered, pointing a shaking finger at House. "You and Cuddy?" he ran his fingers through his hair. "How? When?"

"I suppose you want to know the Where and the Why, too, since you already know the Who," House mumbled, dryly. "As for the when, it's been long enough to knock her up. The How is none of your damn business," he grunted.

Wilson processed the information. "You're gonna be a dad," he said, softly, with wonder.

"Thank-you, Captain Obvious," he scowled, then buried his face in his hands. "What am I gonna do?"

Wilson paused, thinking, then grinned. "You're gonna watch the all the games today, and watch your bracket get busted. While you're doing that, you're gonna get well and truly drunk." At the odd look House gave him, he shrugged. "It's what I would do." House stared past him at the wall, then slowly nodded picking up his beer bottle. Wilson's small smirk faltered a bit. "I understand that you didn't want this to get out, but I don't know why you didn't tell me sooner."

House glared at him. I didn't know," he snorted. At Wilson's skeptical look, he shrugged. "I really didn't. I still don't know what it is," his shoulders slumped. "What it means."

"You knocked her up. It's something," Wilson told him quietly. The words chilled House, causing fear to sour the beer in his belly, causing it to churn uncomfortably.

"What if it's not?" he asked aloud, his eyes focusing on a blank spot on the wall. He rubbed his face. "I'm not fit to be a father," he tried not to look at Wilson. "I can screw this up nine ways to Sunday," he pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead. "What am I gonna do?"

Wilson sighed, rubbing his own forehead. "Get drunk," he finally said. "You'll have nine months to figure it out."

"Assuming she carries it that long," House said morosely.

"Then your problem might be solved, right?" Wilson studied him closely, then blinked. "You want her to have this baby!" he gasped.

"Yes. No. Christ, I don't know." He sighed. "It'll make her happy," he finally said, feeling defeated. "And stop looking so goddamn smug," he growled, glaring at Wilson. "It doesn't become you."

Wilson continued to smirk, ignoring the warning. "This is great," he said. "Really, really wonderful. The Great Gregory House is finally worried about someone else's happiness."

"That someone happens to be Cuddy," House warned, his tone low and dangerous. "She's got a lot at stake in this, not the least her job. You know, being our boss."

Wilson sobered. "You're right," he nodded. "I won't tell a soul about your bun in Cuddy's oven," he teased his friend, relishing having something up on House for a change.

House glared, then looked mildly relieved. He settled back on the couch, trying to focus on the the game and Wilson's ramblings about goings on at the hospital, but his mind was clouded with what if's and possibilities for the future.

And not many of them were happy endings.