Chance is inevitable
Chapter 1
He was working (yes, actually working) at his desk one sunny May afternoon. He was looking at some patient files, and it reminded him of a similar job that Cuddy had him do a few days ago.
Cuddy, Lisa Cuddy. They had always been friends. When Stacy left him, Lisa was the one that he went to and who was his shoulder to cry on. She was always there for him to talk to. Now she was asking him to do something that was easy, just look at some files and give his opinion.
But things were never easy for Greg House. He thought that what Cuddy was doing was wrong. "You should know," he told her. "Who you are matters." She had just stared at him. It infuriated him that she did not value herself as much as she was worth, as much as he did. He had seen the half-empty bottle of scotch in her office when he was snooping around in her trash. It had been hidden under her desk, but it was there.
As for what he did to Patrick What's-his-face, there was no flicker of guilt in his mind. Sure, he had taken advantage of Cuddy and Patrick, but whatever. She should know whose kid she was going to have. She had acted pissed, but deep down, Greg knew that Lisa was more relieved then she let on. Maybe next time she would think again about an anonymous sperm donor.
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A thought had been hanging out in the back of House's mind for the past week, ever since he found out what Cuddy wanted. It was a strange feeling for him, and it was something he couldn't place. The closest he could come was a strange type of jealousy. Something in him was repulsed by the fact that Cuddy was going to let a complete stranger be the father of her child.
He told himself that he was being stupid; there was no way that he should be a father. It was a miracle that there weren't already little Greg's roaming the earth. (Though the mental image made him chuckle.) But there was something in him that made him really want to be the father of the child that she wanted.
Mentally shaking himself, he got back to work. Cuddy would never ask him what he wanted her to, so it was no use wasting time (he didn't have enough), sleep (damn insomnia), or effort (it could be better spent) on things he couldn't fix. So he worked. And waited. And wished.