Summary: House remembers back when he and Cuddy decided to start a family. I think this whole story will be more flash-back than present, hope you guys don't mind. Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: Fox owns them, I don't. Curse you, Fox!

Chapter 3:

"House. . .House. . Greg, stop staring at them."

Cuddy murmured as the song began to fade, aware that her husband had been glaring daggers at Brandon for the past few minutes. Generally, he veiled his distaste for people with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Although he would never admit it, this was different. Lisa knew that House didn't mind Brandon, generally. It was the fact that his little girl had grown up, and he was still having trouble letting her go.

When all she received in response was a noncommittal grunt, she reached up to lightly stroke the side of his face, rewarded when blue eyes met hers.

"He's all over her."

He growled by way of explanation, clearly finding this behavior inappropriate. Cuddy couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Do you even remember what you were like at our wedding? I practically had to beat you back with your own cane. My dad wanted to kill you. Especially when you gave him that smirk and told him you'd take 'extra special care' of me."

House smirked at the memory, then glanced over at Elaina again and frowned.

"Yeah, well, he's not nearly as dashing and charismatic as I am. Can't trust the guy."

The song ended, and he started to move towards his daughter. Cuddy quickly caught his arm, well aware that having an over-protective father step in was not something Elaina would appreciate just then.

"As I recall, you once told me you'd never dream of having children. . now you can't let her go? Dr. House, you're going soft."

She teased him as a distraction, knowing he'd be unable to resist rising to the barb. After all, he still had a reputation to maintain. Grudgingly, he accepted the cane she handed to him, and limped off the dance floor with his wife.

"Who, me? Nope, that Viagra stuff you got me works wonders."

A typical House response, as he shuffled off towards the bar. Lisa shook her head slightly, but let him go off to sulk. He may have been a brilliant doctor and outstanding in bed, but really, sometimes she could swear he had the mentality of a 5-year-old.

As his wife turned to talk with some of the guests, House ordered a drink and sat back at the bar, watching his daughter carefully. She looked stunning in the wedding gown, and the smile on her lips as she danced with Brandon told House all that he needed to know. Still, that didn't mean he had to accept it. Vaguely, he realized the irony of the situation. Twenty-two years ago, he hadn't even wanted a child; now, he couldn't fathom letting her go.

"House, not now. And definitely not in my office."

Cuddy tried her best to look stern as House adopted a puppy-dog expression, leaning over her desk on his elbow, cane tucked under one arm.

"Aww, c'mon Cuddles. . .what's the use of dating the boss, if you can't have hot sex in the office?"

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her with a smirk, and she rolled her eyes.

"The use of dating the boss, is that you get to go home with her, after you do your clinic hours."

The diagnostician grimaced and shook his head. He really wished she'd stop bringing up the clinic. It was sort of a mood-killer.

"Okay, the leather and whips, I liked. But I really don't see how this clin-ick you speak of could be a turn-on. How about we just-"

"No House. Clinic. Now."

She cut him off, pointing towards the door with a no-nonsense look. He stuck out his lower lip, pouting for a few moments. His gaze wandered from her face, lower, and she was just about to smack him when his pout turned to a frown, and he reached out to grab a file off her desk. She tried, unsuccessfully, to grab it back from him.

Quickly scanning over the document, he met her gaze with an unreadable look.

"Something tells me this wasn't part of your annual check-up."

His tone had an accusatory edge to it.

"I just wanted to make sure that there was nothing wro-"

Cuddy started to respond, but he cut her off.

"Yeah, well, obviously nothing is. Your fertility levels are fine. But you took these tests two weeks ago, not two years ago, when you were hitting up the sperm bank. Now I've got a feeling that most women don't wake up and decide, "Hey, I think I'll go run some expensive tests to see whether I'm capable of being fertilized" on a whim."

He didn't actually ask a question, but it hung heavily in the silence between them nonetheless. She sighed.

"You told me once, that when I was choosing a father, it should be someone I trusted. Someone I liked. Well, I found that guy. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't too late."

It wasn't hard to figure out where this was going. They'd been living together for over a year. However, House never was the type for emotional heart-to-hearts. Irrationally, he decided that if he left before she say it, then he could pretend this never happened. He was pretty good at pretending.

"Gotta go, sick people to cure."

House turned to limp towards the door, wondering why his heart was hammering in his chest. If he took more time to examine his reactions, he would've concluded that for some reason, he was terrified.

"Greg."

He stopped, his back to her. She stepped out from behind her desk, and he could smell her light perfume as she moved closer. Stubbornly, he refused to turn around.

"It doesn't have to be now. Those tests were just to know that if. . if you ever wanted to, then. . ."

She trailed off, then spoke softly,

"I trust you. I like you."

House was utterly unprepared to deal with this right now. It was the last thing he'd expected, and he usually expected everything. He couldn't deal with this right now, wouldn't deal with this right now. After a long silence, he finally acknowledged,

"I know."

He barely spoke to her for a week, spending most of his free time crashing at Wilson's. After some prying, and a few bottles of scotch, Wilson finally managed to pry enough from his friend to figure out what had happened.

"She wants to have a kid. With me."

House knocked back another shot, and laughed.

"Me, Jimmy. Obviously, the woman's insane. No one in their right mind wants a crippled son-of-a-bitch fathering their child."

Wilson sighed, shaking his head.

"You've been living together for over a year, House. You know how badly she wanted a baby before. What made you think that would change?"

All he got was a noncommital grunt in response. He sat up a bit straighter, studied his friend more closely. That was when it hit him.

"You're terrified of this, aren't you? Absolutely terrified."

House refused to meet his gaze, and downed another shot. That was answer enough for Wilson.

"You're not your father, House."

This drew a response, a scathing glare from House.

"Gee, thanks Jimmy. You cleared everything up. Now that I know I'm not going to become an abusive jerk like my father, I'll have Cuddy start popping 'em out."

Okay, so he'd walked into that one. Still, he'd learned that getting anywhere with House meant ignoring those kinds of comments.

"She loves you. You love her. You're both not getting any younger. A family wouldn't be so bad, you know."

House studied the contents of his drink, swirling the amber liquid in the glass for several moments. Wilson nearly gave up on receiving a response, when the diagnostician whispered,

"I know."

Lisa was worried that she'd lost him, pushed him away by asking more than he could give. They'd never approached the topic of children. They hadn't even discussed moving in together; it just happened. House wasn't big on relationship discussions, and she knew that, accepted that.

So when she woke up in the middle of the night to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, chin propped on top of his cane, silently she prepared for the worst.

He sat there, thinking. Staring at the wall, trying to figure out how to say this. They hadn't shared a bed for a week. He'd even done his clinic hours, just to avoid her. Now, he couldn't bring himself to make the first contact. Finally, she reached out, placing her hand on his arm. Slowly, House turned to meet her gaze. Neither spoke for a full three minutes. Finally, his rough voice cut through the silence.

"Y'know, those heels of yours are really going to kill when you start putting on the poundage. And I'm not buying any pickles, not matter what whacked-out cravings you get."

His expression didn't change, his tone perfectly neutral. She stared at him, open-mouthed and stunned.

"What's that? Oh God Greg, you're amazing and I want you right here and right now? Well, why didn't you say so sooner, Lis ."

House leaned in, more confident now, and she felt his lips curl into a smirk as they met hers.

He quickly deepened the kiss, attempting to convey through his lips what he couldn't put into words. The depth of his feelings for her, how he was willing to give over a part of himself, create something with her, something that would bind them together more closely than any vows ever could. House always avoided making connections; now he was willingly forging an unbreakable one with her.

House's stubble scraped lightly over her neck as he gently pushed her back onto the bed, lips traveling towards a sensitive spot on her collarbone. At that point, she stopped trying to figure out what had changed his mind, and focused instead on the moment, a moment she never wanted to forget.