Ok, ladies and gentleman, here's the chapter as requested by cheesystar, winner of my little contest…

…the fluffiest fluff ever written ever mark two!

Disclaimer: House is not mine. Cameron is not mine. The show in which they belong are not mine. Becky is mine though, and you CANT HAVE HER! She is MY ray of sunshine, so back off.

Warning: Due to the extreme fluffyness of this piece, it is inadvisable to read if you have currently had major surgery not presided over by sexy blue-eyed doctors.

She was nervous…extremely nervous.

Before meeting Dr. Gregory House, Allison could have counted the number of times she was truly nervous on one hand. Since she had met him…well, she could now count the number of times she was NOT nervous on one hand.

But she always stopped counting when she hit her ring finger. Something, a golden-band-and-diamond something, always distracted her.

Today, however, she was far more nervous than she had been any of those other times. She was more nervous than she had been when she'd come in for that fateful interview, having heard rumors of the "difficult" Dr. House. She was more nervous than she'd been when she'd asked him, haltingly, if he liked her. She was even more nervous than she'd been on the wedding day, before he had made that sarcastic comment about Wilson's tux and dissipated the bizarre tension in the air.

Her nerves were so tightly wound that she nearly dropped her coffee mug on the floor when Drs. Foreman and Chase entered the room.

"Well, hello…Dr. House," said Chase jeeringly, as he had everyday since she had married their gruff and sarcastic boss. As per his usual response, Foreman hit him upside the head, and Dr. House, Dr. Gregory House, who had followed them in, whacked him with his cane. Some of the tension in Allison's stomach eased a little as her husband, man how she loved that word, gave her a slight smile as he walked over to the wipe-board.

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He looked up briefly as she walked into his office. He knew that she would say whatever she had to say in her own time, so he continued to play his video game. The gold on his ring finger glinted in the sun as he casually maneuvered the frog through the obstacles of moving trucks and sports cars, watching his wife out of the corner of his eye.

His office was much the same as it had been three years ago, when she had first come to work here at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. His desk was strewn with papers, the shelves lined with taped episodes of General Hospital and various diversions to keep him entertained while avoiding Cuddy and clinic duty, and his television stood haphazardly in the middle of the room. But there were some small changes, she smiled at a picture of the two of them on their honeymoon, stretched out on a beach content not to go anywhere for a while. Borrowing confidence from the rare smile displayed by Greg in the picture, she turned to face the real thing.

"Greg?"

He looked up. So it was something personal. She only called him by his first name when at home or talking about something personal. No reason to give Cuddy an excuse to blackmail House into even MORE clinic duty. I might overlook the fact your relationship, a relationship I might add with an employee, is interfering with your work if you put in a couple more hours everyday…He could just picture it, that woman loved to torment him.

"Yes, Allison, what is it?"

She paused for a second, looking at him, weighing, judging. She took a deep breath, then, and looked straight into his brilliant blue eyes. "I'm…we're….we're going to have a baby, Greg. I'm pregnant, the doctor confirmed it yesterday." She refused to tear her eyes away from his, refused to fear his reaction.

He stared at her for a second, looking into those green eyes. His face then broke into a grin larger than she had ever seen. He jumped up, or as close to jumping as he could with his leg, and grabbed her in a fierce hug.

If she saw a couple of joyful tears in his eyes, she said nothing. She was married to him now, any blots in his reputation reflected on her as well.

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It was a wonder they hadn't kicked him out of the delivery room. She wasn't sure SHE would have allowed him to stay if he had been talking to HER like that. The doctors had been totally competent, after all, and probably didn't appreciate being criticized and harassed by the father. Allison chuckled weakly as she recalled how Greg had threatened to beat them unconscious with his cane and finish the delivery himself, then proceeded to alternate between derision (I bet you skated through medical school on your boyfriend's notes) and general cynicism (You're only in this job because it's the closest thing you'll ever get to sex. Quit touching my wife!) The nurses must've been hand selected by the hospital staff for their ability to withstand abuse as soon as it was known that Dr. Gregory House was an expectant father.

He had stood by her through the entire thing, making sarcastic comments about how she was probably regretting taking up with him, knowing that they were more soothing than any words of comfort he could give her. She had managed a weak smile then, and had wheezed out that she was going to run off with Wilson as soon as she was out of there. He grinned hugely at the statement, and some of the tension, if not the pain, rolled off of her.

He hadn't had a single snarky comment, however, when they had placed the small bundle in his arms. He walked over to the bed, holding his tiny daughter as if she were made of the most fragile of glass, trying not to jar her as he limped over to the hospital bed where Allison lay, exhausted and elated. He gingerly laid her in her mother's arms.

"Our Rebecca, our sweet little Rebecca."

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"Daddy?"

"Mmm?" said Gregory House, lost in the world of Mozart as his fingers stroked the keys.

"Daddy, do you remember what day it is tomorrow?"

House turned to face his four-year-old daughter, still stroking the keys, but now playing a Disney tune for her benefit. She giggled as she recognized "Friend Like Me", but did not sing along as she normally would. She was on a mission.

"What day would that be, Becky?"

"Take your daughter to work day!"

He grimaced slightly. He adored his daughter, and would go to the ends of the Earth to satisfy her slightest whim. That was the problem. If she was at work with him, then he would obliterate the carefully constructed façade of the misanthropic bastard who was married through a mistake and probably locked his child in the closet when not using her for slave labor. He geared himself up to refuse her, to convince her to stay home with mommy and the soon-to-be baby brother instead, but one look at her sweet blue-green eyes had him cursing softly under his breath.

"Fine, but you have to pretend that it's perfectly normal for me to chain you to my desk, ok? I have a reputation to maintain."

She beamed at him, gave him a big kiss that smelled of bubblegum toothpaste, and rushed of to bed, yelling "Thanks, daddy!" over her shoulder.

"Becky?" she stopped and looked back, "Make sure you call me 'master' and not 'daddy' tomorrow."

He listened to her giggles as she closed the door to her room. He was so screwed.

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"Alright, eggs-n-beckers, do you remember what I told you?"

"Yes daddy!"

"Well, let's hear it," he said as he reached over and undid her safety belt.

"I'm supposed to yell really loudly asking why Uncle James is looking at the pretty lady's bottom. When you're trying to hide from the evil devil lady Cutty, I'm supposed to tell her that you are in the men's room and that her butt looks big in her pants. The guy with the weird accent has candy in his pockets and will only give them to me if I pour chocolate milk on his head. The big black guy is a master criminal and I have to run and scream 'rape' whenever he tries to speak to me," she rattled off, her eyes closed in concentration.

"And?" he asked grinning.

"And Stacy loves playing catch with the tennis balls and to throw her one whenever she comes in your office with a big stack of papers and a mean look because it cheers her up?"

"Good girl," he said fondly. Maybe this day wouldn't be so bad after all.

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Chase and Foreman were very shocked to find a small girl in the office, wearing a jacket much to big for her and holding House's bright red coffee mug.

"Ok, sit down, we have a big case today. What are you two staring at?" she glared at them, "Fine, I get it, I'm not the most handsome man in the world, but it's not surprising my face has lost it's yooful sple…splend…"

"Splendor," whispered a voice under the table, "Youthful splendor!"

"Oh! It's not surprising my face has lost its yooful splendor having to look at your ugly mugs day after day!" She beamed. "Did I do it right daddy?" she asked anxiously, looking under the table.

Following her gaze, Chase and Foreman were greeted with the site of Dr. Gregory House, lying under the table with a huge grin plastered on his face. "You were supposed to pretend I wasn't hear, silly." He pulled himself out from under the table. "Pass me my cane baby-girl."

Chase and Foreman were completely thrown off. This was House's daughter? Most of the time they liked to pretend that House (they would never dare call him by his first name, no matter how long they'd known him) and Allison's relationship was a joke that would soon be aired on Candid Camera. They'd been pretending as much for the past five years. It disturbed Chase especially that his grumpy boss had taken part in any activities that would result in a child between him and the kind and sweet Allison Cameron House.

"What are you two staring at? Didn't you hear Dr. Rebecca? We have a case!"

They settled into their chairs, but Foreman had to ask: "What is she doing here?"

"It's take your daughter to work day!" she explained before House could answer, "and I'M going to figure out what's wrong with the patient FIRST!"

Chase rolled his eyes towards Foreman. Silently they agreed. Sweet as candy and as egotistical as Napoleon, this was definitely Allison and House's kid.

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Foreman paused in his prowling as his beeper went off, recognizing Chase's number, he changed directions for the break room. On his way there, he ran into Chase, standing next to the door of the lab and fighting hard not to laugh. At the rate he was going, he was likely to snap a few ribs in the process

"What the hell-" Foreman began, but Chase cut him off and yanked him out of view of the door, which was open slightly. Listen he mouthed silently to Foreman. He gave Chase an odd look and then cocked his ear towards the door. At first he didn't hear anything, but slowly, the sound Chase was referring to reached his ears. He couldn't resist leaning around the door to make sure he wasn't hearing things. There was Rebecca Ann House, sitting on the counter in the lab, tears in her eyes and a scrape on her knee, and Dr. House was bustling around gathering band-aids and anti-septic gel…and singing.

Gray skies are gonna clear up, put on a happy face.

Brush off the clouds and cheer up, put on a happy face.

When you are feeling cross and bicker-ish, don't sit and whine.

Think of banana splits and licorice, and you'll feel fine.

Foreman's eyes grew wide and Chase snickered even harder.

"No one's going to believe us, you know," he said, eyes still glued to the strange scene before him.

"That's what this is for," said Chase slyly. Foreman looked down to see that Chase had a mini-camcorder, with which he was recording the scene for posterity…and blackmail.

"You are brilliant, you know that?" asked Foreman as they watched House gently blow on the girl's knee before placing the band-aid over it and kissing her tear-streaked cheek. "Absolutely brilliant"

"What's so brilliant?" came a voice from behind them. As one, the two doctors turned to find a woman in a tight-fitting, low-cut shirt and a very stern expression. Silently, they held out the camera. Inside the lab, they could hear House getting back to work on the labs while his daughter asked him a million questions.

Cuddy's eyes widened as she watched the scene on the camera's little screen. Without another word, she pressed the eject button and removed the disc from the slot.

"Hey!" exclaimed Dr. Chase, "We needed that!"

"I don't think so," was her cool reply, "this hospital cannot withstand the negative publicity of a double homicide. And House is too important to this department to be lost to a prison cell for a life sentence." Plus, this material was too good to be wasted on the two House-boys.

The 'House-boys' as they were still referred to by the entire hospital staff, sulked as they watched Dr. Cuddy walk off with their one chance of getting back at their boss. That is, until Wilson, who'd been watching the entire scene from his nearby office (a/n don't know if Wilson's office is anywhere near the lab, it was simply convenient to put it there) walked up to them with a manila envelope, dropped it at their feet, winked, and walked off whistling. Curious, they picked up the envelope and pulled out the VHS within. Reading the label, they grinned after Jimmy Wilson, and rushed off to begin their diabolical plans.

"Rebecca's first piano lesson with daddy" it said, in Cameron's girly but precise hand.

Ok, y'all that's it. My fluffy sequel. I hope you all enjoyed it. I got a kick out of writing it. Yes, I based House's daughter after one of my best friends…so sue me. She was so perfect for the roll, I just couldn't resist. And we do call her Becky and eggs-n-Beckers…as well as Becca, Becky-boo, and various other cutesy names. You have no idea how well it suits her, despite her being teen-aged.

Please note: misspellings in Becca's dialogue is intentional. Just FYI