Sorry, if House is getting about ooc. I'm trying not to, but I feel like it is a bit. Also sorry to you Racing readers, I'm just not really feeling inspired Ive outlined the last few chapters, but I haven't gotten around to writing them. Ill finish it eventually. However, here's more of this one for now. Also, I might actually finish this one before writing more of that one. Hopefully not though.

I'm also toying around with the idea of a sequel for this one, or maybe just skipping some time or something. There aren't really any house and thirteen family fics around. But still I dunno how Id do it or how far in the future it'd be. It could also just be house with a kid and thirteen already gone, but I like writing her. Then again the kid could be like a mini her. So…a lot of options. Let me know if you have any thoughts.

- E

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"So, uh…do you think, I mean now," House stumbles. You roll over in bed to face him. You need to see what makes Gregory House, Mr. Blunt, uncomfortable.

"Yes," You encourage.

"Maybe its time for another drug trial." He mumbles. Your eyes find his, but you don't really know what to say.

"House, I had a brain tumor, and I'm pregnant now." You say.

"What do you think the chances of you getting another tumor on a different trial medication are?" He asks.

"Probably on par with having three straight generations of Huntington's or winding up on the placebo." You mutter.

"Life can suck, but is that any reason to stop trying." He says sitting up. You sit up too. You barely believe what's coming from his mouth. His typical cynicism has been laced with hope lately and you don't really understand why.

"What is this?" You ask.

"Can't have our kid have two shotty parents," he shrugs, "chances are my liver wont last another twenty years, and the kid needs someone to watch him in his first NBA playoff game."

"I'll try another trial if you detox." You say.

"Oh, so were bargaining now?" He smirks. You squeeze your eyes shut. This may have been a mistake because House always tends to win challenges.

"I want you to meet my mother then." He says. You choke for a minute on your own saliva.

"What?" You ask.

"She's flying in to see me next week, and she'd kill me she didn't get to meet my baby mama." He smirks.

"You told her?" You say. You're surprising yourself with your reactions. A part of you is horrified.

"Cameron practically begged to meet my parents." He says.

"House, this could still all go wrong. We don't know if were keeping this baby yet." You says, but he gives you a look as if to say that you both know the baby is staying.

"I didn't tell her you were pregnant, but she can do math so I figure I should introduce her to my girlfriend so she doesn't think I knocked a stranger up in seven months." He says.

"Fine," You nod. You are kind of curious what his mother is like. You bet she's a straight arrow. Probably wears khaki, has an American flag in her front yard, and knows a great recipe for chocolate chip cookies.

"Yeah, but I'm not meeting your dad." He says snidely.

"What? Why?" You shoot back. You never even wanted him to meet your dad until he brought it up though. You hate how he can mess with your mind.

"I'm probably his age, you've probably mentioned that your boss is a jerk, and I don't do the whole meet the parents ordeal." He says

"He's going to realize I have a baby eventually, and he's going to be curious about its dad." You say. You actually haven't talked to him about your job though, so he at least has no idea that House can be a jerk. You consider letting House know that, but you figure he'll watch his behavior more closely f he doesn't know.

"He can come to the wedding." House mutters. Your heart stops for a minute.

"Our wedding?" You say slowly. This is all moving way o fast for you.

"I mean one day in the future." He says brushing it off. This situation reminds you of accidentally saying I love you too early in a relationship – only a million times worse.

"I have vacation time that I could use to detox." He says turning the conversation back.

"What?" You ask him for what seems like the millionth time.

"I'd need to take the first week off, but then I'd have a week less when the baby comes." He says. You look at him to make sure he's being serious.

"I think Cuddy would give you all the time you need if you were willing to detox." You say.

"I'm not going to completely detox. I mean I'll just cut back. I'll always be in pain." He sort of thinks out loud.

"You mean like take the actual proper dosage?" You ask. He nods slowly thinking about what he's about to commit to.

"But only if you join another trial." He says taking your hand in his. He rubs the top of our hand with his thumb.

"I guess." You say not really thinking about what you're about to commit to.

"You could maybe see the kid through puberty, I could see him through med school." House jokes about your possibly lengthened lifespans.

"You mean I could see her first dance recital and you could see her graduate med school." You joke back. He shakes his head.

"Are you going to be disappointed if it's a girl?" You ask.

"No, I'd be relieved." He sighs.

"Girls tend to be less resilient and who knows what kind of terrible things we'd teach her." You say. The idea of home schooling her crosses your mind before you realize how far ahead of yourself you're getting.

"I mean I can't exactly teach a boy how to play soccer," House shrugs playing with the blankets.

"You'd be a great dad. Besides you could teach him how to solve a three hundred piece puzzle or pick up the ladies." You joke. He drops the covers and tries to hold back a smile.

"I want one of both." He says putting a hand on your stomach.

"One step at a time," You say.

"Look, you're already getting fat." He says in a sickeningly sweet tone. You purse your lips together; you know he's just trying to piss you off. All this sentimentality is probably freaking him out so he's back in jerk mode.

"I know. I've gained two pounds." You say crossing your arms over your chest. You know he hates it when you get all vain about your appearance. If you do have a daughter he'll have fun taking her through high school, you can't imagine him taking a girl shopping for clothes or make up. You hope to god you'll be around for stuff like that, but you know you probably won't.

"Shut up," He smirks, "can't wait till these puppies blow up. People might you for Cuddy." He says bringing his hands up to your chest. You swat his hands away and laugh. His rudeness always amused you.