3.

"I can't believe you slept with Cuddy and didn't tell me about it."

House rolled his eyes. "Well as long as we're making it all about you."

"But you tell me everything."

"How do you know I tell you everything? There could be all sorts of stuff I never tell you about, and you'd never know because I don't tell you about it."

"I can't follow your circular logic right now. I'm too busy trying to figure out how you managed to get Cuddy into bed. And there was something about a baby somewhere in there, too."

"Strangely enough that's the part I'm stuck on."

"Okay," Wilson said, still trying to wrap his head around it all. "Okay. Nothing would surprise me where you're concerned, but it's hard to see Cuddy being irresponsible like that."

"That's the thing. She wasn't."

one month ago

His head and his stomach were duking it out to see who would be named Hangover King, and the only consolation was that however bad he was feeling, Cuddy somehow managed to look even worse.

He decided it couldn't hurt to tell her so.

"Wow. I hope 'fresh-faced and dewy-eyed' wasn't what you were going for with that look - if it was, you really need to have a word with your stylist."

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on her robe, and turned her head to glare at him. "Do you really have to make things worse than they already are?"

"Just trying to inject a little humour into an awkward situation. It's helping, don't you think?"

"No, it just makes me want to kill you," she muttered as she stood up, one hand pressed to her forehead. "God," she moaned as she moved slowly towards the bathroom.

"Gonna go throw up?" he asked sweetly.

"No," she said, irritated.

"Don't mind me, puke all you want. I'll just be over here making an inauspicious exit."

She tightened the sash at her waist as she turned back, suddenly alert. "You're going?"

He manoeuvred his legs over the side of the bed and concentrated on hooking his pants, boxers still inside, off the floor with his cane.

"Don't get all romantic on me now. A big embarrassing scene isn't on my agenda for the weekend," he said distractedly.

Her hands flew to her hips and she spoke curtly. "Well, House, exchanging body fluids with you wasn't on my agenda for the weekend. But we did, and now..."

"Yeah," he interrupted her, forcing a smile around the pounding in his head. "Nice memory. Fuzzy, a little disjointed, sure, but -"

"Shut up," she snapped. Then she sighed and continued, "I'm not on the pill and we... You know."

He stood up, pulling up his shorts as he did so, and looked back over his shoulder at her. "Lucky for you, you bagged yourself a real live doctor last night. What a score! I can write prescriptions and everything. I'll phone one in for you."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Our trusty hospital pharmacy work for you?"

From the look she gave him, apparently not.

"So purchasing the morning after pill is embarrassing for some people," House told Wilson as he tossed the ball in the air and caught it. "Who knew? The last I saw of her, she was planning to change her name and cross state lines to find a drug store she wouldn't run into any of her golfing buddies at."

"Well even assuming she took it -"

"She took it. This is Cuddy we're talking about."

"It's not a hundred percent effective."

"So few things are. Funny how that whole abstinence thing isn't catching on."

"You're taking this all very well."

"Maybe it's not mine. How often do you think a hot piece like Cuddy gets some? I can't be the only candidate - that'd just be sad."

"Maybe a little too well," Wilson went on.

"Think I'm in denial?"

"I think you have to go talk to her."

House bounced the ball again. And then a few more times, setting up a steady rhythm.

"Or," Wilson offered, "you could sit here and play with your toys some more."

"If ever a situation needed careful deliberation, it's this one," House said slowly.

Anyone else might not have seen it at all. It barely showed - this was House after all - but Wilson had never seen his friend so deeply, deeply freaked out. And despite the seriousness of the situation, he suddenly found himself swallowing a brief surge of inappropriate laughter.

"You know that you don't get to make this decision, don't you?" he said after carefully schooling his expression. "She's going to do whatever she's going to do." House made a face. "And that's what's bothering you more than anything, isn't it? You can't stand that this is her decision, that it's out of your control."

"Well what about my reproductive rights?" House demanded in his usual over-dramatic manner, pelting the ball hard at the wall. "It's my uterus too!" He caught the ball as it bounced back at him and stopped suddenly, frowning down at it in his hand as he went on in a more serious tone. "You're assuming I care what she does. You shouldn't assume things, Jimmy, don't you know that?"

"House." Wilson spoke quietly, ignoring his friend's claim of indifference. "You know you have to talk to her."

House didn't reply. The ball started bouncing again.