23.

It was the middle of the day. Cuddy's guard dog assistant - or as House had come to affectionately refer to her, 'the gorgon' - was away from her desk, probably at lunch.

As he observed surreptitiously from the other side of the front desk and partially hidden by a decorative pot plant, he saw Cuddy emerge from her office and head out across reception towards the stairs.

Perfect timing, he thought, as he made his move.

"What are you doing?" she demanded the moment she stepped through the door. "I've been gone for five minutes. What, did you have the place staked out?"

Quickly, but without any outward signs of rushing, he closed down Cuddy's day planner and brought up a game of spider solitaire instead. It was safely on screen by the time she rounded the desk.

"Yep, that's how I spend my time, hanging around just waiting for the opportunity to carry out my fiendish plans."

"Move," she ordered, shooing him away.

"Relax," he told her. "I'm just blitzing your 'difficult' score. And bringing you lunch," he added.

"You brought me lunch?" she said as he abandoned the game and removed himself from her chair. Her tone was somewhere between pleased and suspicious as she eyed the aforementioned lunch, sitting innocuously on her blotter.

"It's chicken lasagne. Home made." He rounded the desk and settled himself opposite her with his own little container and fork.

"Really?" She picked it up, looking unconvinced. "Why does it say 'property of James Wilson, do not touch'?"

"Because he was the one who made it, and provided the cute matching tupperware. Don't mind the label, he writes that on everything. It's like the nutritional information on a package of twinkies. No one expects you to pay any attention to it." He shrugged. "They're twinkies."

"So really Wilson brought me lunch and you're just the delivery boy?"

He rolled his eyes. "The way you're filling out lately, I didn't think there'd be this much trouble getting you to eat."

Her eyes narrowed, but she stopped staring at the lasagne like it might be laced with rat poison and picked up her fork. "Just how much longer are you going to keep it up with the fat jokes?"

He shrugged. "Depends. I like to find something that works and stick with it. Some women never lose the baby weight - could be indefinitely."

She let out a short, irritated laugh. "I think I preferred it when the comments were about my chest." She paused, frowning. "I can't believe I just said that."

"If you want, I'll throw a 'nice ta-tas' your way every once in a while, for old times sake."

"Thanks," she said dryly, and took a bite of lasagne. Surprised, she went on more appreciatively, "This is really good."

"He's going to make someone such a good little wife someday."

"You're the one he's cooking for," she pointed out.

"Out of necessity - now that I know he can cook, if he doesn't make extra for me, I just steal his."

She just looked at him for a moment, chewing slowly. "He has no idea I'm eating his lunch, does he?"

He glanced at his watch. "He probably knows someone's eating it by now. Don't worry - who'd deny food to a pregnant woman?"

"Well you would," she replied wryly. "Unless it gave you a chance to annoy your friend without any fear of reprisal."

He shrugged, unconcerned that she'd uncovered his fiendish plan - well, part of it anyway.

Really good fiendish plans always had layers.

"How's your mom?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject. "Killed her in her sleep, yet?"

She didn't respond immediately as she tried to figure out how he knew Mama Cuddy was still in town, since she hadn't bothered mentioning it to him. "She's fine. Still alive and kicking."

Her answer meant she hadn't figured it out, but was resisting asking for an explanation. No matter, he was happy to provide one.

"You're meeting her for lunch tomorrow," he informed her. "Tricky since she usually lives two states over." Her expression was rapidly turning sour. If she hadn't been chewing he knew the glare would have been verbalised. "Between your lunch date with Mom, and that teeth cleaning next Thursday morning, your social calendar is impressive."

"Am I going to have to start posting a security guard outside my door every time I leave?" she demanded finally.

"You really thought I'd use private time with your computer to play card games?"

"Of course, I should just take it for granted you'd be invading my privacy... I don't need a security guard, I need a restraining order."

He smiled, though not so much at her disgruntled mutterings as what he was about to spring on her. Her sad lack of a social life wasn't the only point of interest he'd uncovered in her planner.

"You're seeing Kubisak tomorrow afternoon."

She huffed, still annoyed. "Yes. He's doing my amnio."

"I thought you were seeing New Jersey's favourite baby doctor, whatshername..."

"Deb Feao. She was seeing me as a favour before. Now word's out around here I don't have to go halfway to Trenton for a check-up, I can just go upstairs."

"I looked up your friend. She's good. Her percentages are better than Kubisak's."

"Kubisak is fine. He's one of our top -"

"And you really want him sticking his head up your skirt?"

"Oh grow up. What's your problem with Kubisak - besides your usual inability to get along with your fellow human beings?"

"He's second rate." She opened her mouth to object and he went on quickly, "But that's not my problem with him. I don't have any problem with him. This is politics, plain and simple. You can't be seen going elsewhere for treatment - pity you can't sweep an accidental pregnancy under the rug like you did Simmons last week. So you'll settle for one of our guys just because it keeps everyone happy."

"Not you, apparently." She shook her head in exasperation. "I don't know what you expect from me, I'm just trying to do what's best for everybody. And the suggestion that I'd accept anything less than the highest standard of care from anyone in my hospital is -"

"Preposterous!" he mocked.

"Insulting," she corrected.

"Well gee, I wouldn't want to insult anyone. But at least now when people wonder which of your babies you love the most, we know what the answer will be, don't we?"

She couldn't hide the hurt that flashed across her face, though a moment later it was gone, her features settling into a tight mask as she stood up.

"I'll be sure and thank Wilson for lunch," she said curtly, moving past him out the door.

He turned in his chair to watch her go. He didn't hear what she said to her trusty assistant, who was back at her desk, but as Cuddy stormed off the gorgon rose and came to stand in the doorway, glowering at him.

"You were just leaving, Dr House?"

He left. Not because of the hefty woman's more than adequate impression of a bouncer at a biker bar, but because he had better things to do. Like track down a certain OBGYN.

He really didn't have anything against Kubisak, except that he knew how much of a brown-noser the guy was - probably went to Cuddy and offered to provide her pre-natal care the moment he heard she was pregnant. Other than that, House didn't have any reason to believe he was better or worse than any of the other mediocre medical professionals that tended to fill the ranks around here.

But then, people were like big, shiny Christmas presents. If you wanted to know if there was anything interesting inside, you had to give them a good shake.

"Dr Kubisak!" he greeted loudly, having tracked him to the men's room down the hall from the obstetrics lounge.

"House," the man returned warily, as he looked over his shoulder. Trying to act like he wasn't standing there with his pants open, he continued, "Something I can help you with?"

He propped himself casually against the counter, took a vicodin, and just watched in silence for a moment, more than happy to impose on the guy in such a vulnerable moment.

"You're seeing our fearless leader tomorrow," he said finally.

"Ah... yes, Dr Cuddy has an appointment with me." Kubisak flushed and zipped up hurriedly, moving over to wash his hands. "And will you be joining us, Dr House? It's always nice when Dad's there to hold Mom's hand," he said in a mocking tone - apparently his confidence had returned along with his state of dress.

"Sadly, no - Mom's got rules. No public displays of affection in front of the help, or she'll have to get rough with me. And not the fun way, either. Oh, who am I kidding? Every way's the fun way with our resident Mistress of Pain."

Kubisak looked at him askance. "Right... Well, gee that's a shame."

"Yeah. Hey, try not to poke the kid's eye out with the big scary needle."

"I don't make a habit of poking things I'm not supposed to, House. Can you say the same?"

"Zing. Nice one. It's good that you're so confident, treating the big kahuna. Any other guy might be worried about how thoroughly his career would be screwed if anything goes wrong with the little kahuna." He shrugged. "Not you, though."

"Do you have a problem with my standard of care, Dr House?"

"Me? No. But then, I'm not the one you have to impress." He clapped the other man on the shoulder before moving off. "I'm sure you'll do fine."

The following afternoon he was sitting in his office, getting in his daily quota of conscientious non-working hours.

He'd briefly considered crashing Cuddy's appointment, but he didn't really feel the need. He'd already pissed off Cuddy, and intimidated her shiny new doctor - as far as he was concerned, his work was done.

Which was why he wasn't expecting her to show up at his door fresh from her procedure, if the way she was carrying herself was anything to go by. Wary, he watched as she came in and lowered herself gingerly into the chair across from him.

"I know," she said, "I should be resting, but first I have something for you."

Even more unexpected. He figured she'd come to 'talk about it', in the hopes that he'd relent and tell her what a good mommy she really was.

Instead, she was holding out a cotton swab and a sample bag.

"Here," she said, as he reached across the desk and took the items. "Swab your cheek."

He merely looked at her some more. It was the best way to keep her talking.

Sitting back she continued. "A while ago you said you wanted a paternity test. Well, now's your chance." She smiled, hands folded over her stomach, like they were chatting about the weather.

Mind racing, he couldn't figure out where she was going with this. "You don't mind?" he said finally. "Isn't it a little insulting?"

She shrugged, her tone dry. "Oh, it's not a complete waste of money or resources - at least we'll be able to definitively rule out immaculate conception."

"Yeah, that was my number one concern after all that drunk sex we had. That, and alien impregnation."

She grinned. "You're forgetting human cloning."

"Now there's a scary thought. A miniature Lisa Cuddy running around the place? I've had nightmares like that."

"Except for the part where it's a boy," she reminded him.

He shrugged. "Guess we could be looking at a bizarre case of hermaphroditism. I have always wondered about you."

"Didn't seem to be an issue when we slept together," she replied boldly. "What does that say about you?"

"That I'm easy to please." She laughed in earnest and he considered her, sitting there relaxed and seemingly unaffected by what had transpired yesterday in her office. He toyed with the swab in his hand, gesturing with it. "I don't need this. I have no problem believing your social life is that lame. If you hadn't gotten me drunk that night, your fields would have remained barren and untouched by man."

"Does it matter?" she said, eyebrows raised. "You always have to know, you told me that yourself. And you don't know until you have proof. But whatever, it's up to you. You'll be the one footing the bill."

"I'll go halvesies with you."

"I don't think so. I'm only doing this so you won't feel the need to harvest the baby's genetic material as soon as he's born."

He saw it for what it was though - this was a peace offering. Although why she felt she needed to make one at all required further thought. At any rate, he wasn't going to turn it down, sticking the swab in his mouth without further delay.

He went to pass it back to her and she held up her hands. "Hey, I'm not one of your lackeys. I've done my part."

She grinned again, and suddenly he got it - why she was pretending to ignore what had happened yesterday. She clearly wasn't over it, she was just taking the passive aggressive route instead of bitching at him like she usually did when he pissed her off.

And he was going to have to call her on it, because it was pissing him off.

"If you're trying to make me feel guilty with this," he said, waving the sample at her, "It's not working. That's more your area of expertise anyway."

"Like I'd ever bother laying a guilt trip on you," she scoffed. "Now, I have to go lie down in my office like a good pin cushion. Thankfully, this is why God created laptops." She got to her feet, her movements careful.

He watched her, the way her hand lingered at her stomach, and tried to hold onto those feelings of non-guilt. He rolled his eyes at himself when it didn't quite work.

"I don't care who your doctor is," he spat out reluctantly. "Obstetrics and gynaecology - not exactly brain surgery, is it? Or diagnostic medicine, if we're going to make comparisons."

"Really." She didn't look convinced as she stood there leaning on the back of the chair. "You certainly made enough noise about it yesterday."

"You're making decisions about your health based on what's good for the hospital. Some might see that as a bad thing. Not me - it's good he won't be an only child. They always turn out to be such mama's boys."

"Okay, you're right," she conceded, "Despite the fact that I practically live here, and should anything happen my doctor would be in the same building rather than 45 minutes away, still, Debbie Feao is the best around, better than Kubisak. But you're forgetting one important factor - which is, I have to say, downright strange for you."

His eyes narrowed at her as he came up blank. "Enlighten me."

"Why would I need the best OBGYN in the state, House, when I've got you?" He stared at her, and she let out a laugh, shaking her head. "You really think there's anything that could happen to me, anything I could get, that you wouldn't diagnose five times faster than anyone else, no matter how good their success rates?"

Damn, he thought, she was appealing to his ego. Now he did feel bad for saying that stuff to her yesterday. Well, not really. That wasn't how he worked. He was starting to feel a little more charitable towards her, however.

"You want me to be your doctor?" he said.

"No. God no. I want you to be you. That's more than enough."

"Fine. You may continue spending time with this Kubisak fellow. He's competent enough for the grunt work - when the haemorrhoids and constipation hit, he's your man."

"He's a very good doctor. You're not the only one, you know."

His eyes dropped to her mid-section. "He didn't give junior any new orifices?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. He was very careful."

"Of course he was." He smiled to himself at that, earning him a suspicious look from Cuddy. "Go and lie down somewhere," he told her. "Somewhere else. Before you start leaking amniotic fluid all over the place. That stuff's hell to get out of the carpet."

She held up her hands and, surprisingly, didn't argue. "All right, I'm going." That was easy, he thought, right before she stopped and added, "I knew you'd see things my way eventually."

And with one last self-satisfied grin, she was gone.

He sat in thought for a moment.

Looking at it one way, it might have seemed like he'd just gotten played. Thoroughly and completely. But it was Cuddy's reaction that was the key issue here, and that was what he chose to focus on.

Cuddy had her moments, she wasn't dumb - at times it was downright creepy the way she managed to anticipate him when they went head to head. But more often than not she was far too busy with her obsessive need for everything to be perfect to show this kind of natural insight on a daily basis. It was a fact he'd taken advantage of on more than one occasion.

What had just happened told him, first of all, that she cared about what he thought. Not that he didn't already know that, but it was nice to have the extra confirmation. But more interestingly, that she was paying attention. He was on her mind. A lot.

Having reached this more than satisfactory conclusion, he sat forward and grabbed his ball off its dish, which he then hurled at the connecting wall between his office and the lounge.

He needed a lackey, and lucky for him he had no less than three stashed away next door.

The ball rebounded wildly towards the front of his office where he wasn't going to bother retrieving it, so he hoped that had done the trick. It obviously had, he saw, when Chase appeared, opening up the door and sticking his head through.

"Uh, you need something?" he asked, bemused at being summoned in a such a manner, rather than irritated like Foreman would have been, or disapproving like Cameron.

There were times when Chase really was his favourite lackey. Not that he'd ever let that get out.

"What I need is someone to carry out a mindless errand."

Chase didn't bat an eye before turning to look over his shoulder. "Cameron? House wants you," he said.

A few seconds later Chase had gone back to whatever he was doing before, and Cameron had taken his place. Smartass, he thought with a modicum of approval. Since he wasn't currently punishing Chase for anything, he let it go.

Cameron stood in the doorway looking at him expectantly and he pointed across the room. "First, get my ball."

"You're welcome," she snarked at him once she'd fetched it and handed it over.

Cameron, like Chase, was easy to sucker into doing things for him - though their motivations were far removed from each other. The problem with Cameron was what she expected in return - something, as opposed to Chase's nothing.

He ignored the sarcasm, took the ball, and exchanged it for his saliva sample.

"What's this?"

"Secret grownup business."

"Is it something for Cuddy? She was just in here."

"Yeah. She's threatening to hit me up for child support. That might just get me out of it."

A look of understanding passed over her face, followed by surprise. "You don't know if you're -"

"I need you to run that over to the lab," he interrupted, making sure to use the three magic words where Cameron was concerned - I need you.

It worked like a charm. Almost.

First she stood there staring at him for a moment. He could see the wheels turning in her head. He could just imagine the kind of conclusions she was jumping to right now. Big enthusiastic leaps, more like.

He knew the baby situation had thrown her, to the extent that he hadn't had to put up with her confronting him about it. Yet. She was out of the loop, however, and he knew it was bugging her. It meant that eventually she was going to get over her fear of what he might have to tell her and just ask. But it wasn't going to be today, he saw, as she finally just sighed and nodded.

"Okay," she said, and then she was gone and he was blissfully alone.

Women, he thought. They were nothing but trouble.

Sometimes it was the good kind of trouble, of course, but that was too much of a rarity for his taste.

Grabbing his iPod and putting his feet up on his desk he cued up some jazz just right for zoning out to, determined not to think about any of them for a while.