TWO four months
"None of your clothes fit?" Wilson asked.
"Isn't that--" began House, but he interrupted himself with a groan.
"House, what is it?" Wilson asked, running to House's side.
House was clutching his stomach.
"It's playing soccer," grumbled House, "with my body."
"Already? It's only four months," replied Wilson in disbelief.
House groaned again.
"Kicked again?" Wilson asked as he rubbed House's slowly swelling stomach.
House pinched Wilson's arm--hard.
"Ouch!"
"That's what you get for trying to pet the kid," replied House.
"Craving anything?" Wilson asked, still rubbing his arm where House had pinched it.
"Yeah. Vicodin on rye," House joked.
"That's getting old really fast, House," replied Wilson.
"Wilson, shut up."
"What for?"
"SHUT UP!!!" snapped House.
"House, it's just the hormones. Relax," soothed Wilson.
Suddenly House couldn't breath. He fought to breath, but he couldn't get enough air into his lungs.
Wilson quickly realized that House was having a panic attack.
"House, calm down. Remember the baby," soothed Wilson.
"House, it's okay. It's okay," Wilson murmured over and over. He finally calmed his friend down.
"Feel better?" Wilson asked.
"Yeah," replied House, now gently massaging his stomach.
"What happened?"
"Newton's third law of motion, replied House, wincing as the soccer game started back up again in his stomach.
"What do you mean?"
"Kid head-butted my spine."