She had never tried to change him. Wilson had taken her aside two days after he found out they were dating, and – after a small whoop and a hug – cautiously checked that she knew she couldn't do it, no matter how hard she tried. She knew.

Allison had known that not only could she not hope to change the way House spoke to others, the way he teased and taunted Chase and Cuddy, his misanthropic nature or his vicodin addiction, she had also known that House wouldn't marry her. He wouldn't want children with her, and he probably wouldn't say he loved her or whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

And yes, it had saddened her to think this. As much as she loved House, and wanted to be with him, she was a girl at heart. She watched Meg Ryan movies, she read romance novels, and sometimes, when she thought no-one was watching, she day-dreamed 'what-ifs' about the life she could have with House were just one aspect of his personality changed. But they always ended, and it always left her with the same feeling of dissatisfaction. House wasn't perfect. And that was why she loved him.

Simple things made up for the others she missed out on. There was no wedding. But there were honeymoons. Twice, in the two years they had been together, House had surprised her with a vacation. Each was only short, the first in Colorado and the second in Vegas, but on each he had holed her up in the hotel and acquiesced to her every desire. Curled up together under a downy doona, House's firm grip around her waist, Allison would smile into the pillow and lie awake, feeling the shivery sensation that every warm breath on the back of her neck caused.

He had told her he loved her. And once she had assured him that saying it often didn't diminish its meaning, he had made it a habit of telling her every day. And while she had been right in presuming he wouldn't whisper lovely speeches in her ear, he told her she was beautiful when she hoped he would, and surprisingly the rest was said so much more clearly by the hunger that burned in his eyes and the way his hand protectively curled her closer to him when they were in public.

It had taken just three nights together before each felt that they couldn't imagine spending another night without the other. Neither had said it, but after they had been dating for two months Cameron's rent came up, and she arrived at House's apartment after work to find several of her boxes of clothes there. A questioning eyebrow was raised by House, and answered by a hug and kiss from her. They had takeout Italian and made love on his leather couch to celebrate.

Even a year into the relationship, when it was no longer new and exciting, House still did things that amazed her, things she had never imagined he would do. He made her coffee and breakfast in the mornings, he doted on her when she was sick and worried about her when she was stressed. He sat on the couch until three in the morning, watching television advertisements for watches and encyclopedia sets because she had fallen asleep with her head in his lap and he hadn't wanted to wake her. And every so often she would awaken in the morning to feel his gaze on her, roll over and just stare into the grey-blue eyes of this amazing man she loved so much that she couldn't even quantify it.

There was never any doubt about where their relationship was headed. They had never raised the issue of marriage, although children had been mentioned on many occasions, usually leading to the same fight, the same silence, and the same make up sex. Cameron's argument was always a variation of the same. She didn't want children or marriage unless he did, and he didn't, so the argument was stupid. His argument was always that she wanted children, he didn't, ere go one of them would win the argument, and the other would lose it, no matter what happened. And besides, he would often add, I would be a terrible father. But they had had other things to occupy their minds in the last six months. Cameron had finished her fellowship and moved into the immunology department, and House had tried, and failed, rehab for a third time.

As their relationship nudged the two year mark, each of them realized something about the relationship that had grown so sturdy. Cameron realized that she took so much strength from him, that she could handle almost anything knowing that when she went home from work her best friend would be waiting, with a beer, a TV guide, and an arm to wrap around her shoulders. House realized that he had grown. That she had changed him, unintentionally, into a man who drew pleasure from the smile he could elicit after an exhausting day at work, or a warm belly laugh from an inappropriate comment murmured into her ear.

On their second anniversary, House took Cameron to their favorite restaurant, plying her with alcohol and watching as she slowly unwound from the stress of the week. Holding her steady as they climbed the three stairs to the door of their apartment, he leaned towards her and placed a soft line of kisses up the side of her neck, smiling as she melted towards him and moaned slightly. Once they were safely tucked into bed, his arm protectively wrapped around her naked waist, Cameron listened to his breathing slow slightly and smiled to herself as she closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to come. Before it claimed her, however, she heard the rumbling, soft voice of House ask her something.

"Huh?"

"I said, 'you know how I'm always obsessed with your stomach?'" She acknowledged it with a nod, wondering where he was heading with this.

"I was just thinking the other day, that one day there might be my baby in there." His hand drifted down to her flat stomach and spread out. Her confusion didn't seem to register with him, and in their sleepy state both of them pretended his comment wasn't a surprise.

But before sleep claimed her, she heard his voice once more.

"Our baby."