24.

Wilson looked up from his desk in surprise as the door to the balcony flew open and House ducked inside. He immediately pressed himself flat against the wall and gestured back the way he came.

"Is she out there?"

"Who?" Wilson asked, though he had a fairly good idea.

"Your mom." House chanced a look around the door jamb, peering through the glass. "Maybe she didn't see me," he said, relaxing a little when the coast apparently remained clear.

"You really think Cuddy was going to vault over the wall? She'll just come around the other way." The normal way, Wilson thought but didn't say.

"Good point," House conceded, moving away from his hiding place beside the door. "You go head her off."

"No, thanks. What did you do this time, anyway?"

"Please? I'll be your best friend." Wilson just looked at him. "You know you're the only person in the world that doesn't work on. Anyone else would jump at a deal like that."

"Because people are lined up around the block to be your friend," he said under his breath.

"Drinks tonight," House countered, ignoring the muttered jibe. "I'll buy."

He looked at House for a moment, then held out his hand. "Gimme your credit card."

"You are so distrustful. It's sad."

He gestured again and after rolling his eyes House pulled out his wallet and handed over the plastic. Wilson didn't even look at it. "A real one," he said, "That isn't maxed out."

Smirking, House took it back and exchanged it for another which he slapped into Wilson's outstretched hand.

Standing up, he drew his own wallet from his pocket and tucked the card safely away. "Nice doing business with you," he said, as he headed out the door.

Cuddy was not, in fact, barrelling down the hall in search of House. He made his way around to the diagnostic department and found her in House's office instead. She was just inside the door, pulling down something that was taped to the glass. He waited till she was done before pushing through the door.

"Hi," he greeted her warily.

She turned on him immediately. "Have you seen him? Do you know what he's done?"

He realised he hadn't actually established what House had done before embarking on this errand, which judging by her current state of ire may have been a mistake.

"Did he email incriminating pictures of you to everyone in the hospital?" he asked, it being his current benchmark for House misbehaviour.

"Close." She thrust the sheet of paper she'd pulled off the inside of the door, tape still attached, into his hand.

Looking down at it, he quickly realised what he was holding - it was House's paternity test results. The pertinent information was circled in red.

"He put it up on his door," Cuddy said. She then brandished another, identical copy. "This one was stuck to the wall of the elevator. Do you know how many people use those elevators every day?"

So this was what House had been up to today. He carefully bit back any sign of amusement. He had no desire to incur Cuddy's wrath himself.

"God knows where else he's put them, that irresponsible, immature ass," Cuddy ranted, throwing up her hands.

Knowing House, which Wilson of course did, he wouldn't be surprised if there was a copy tacked above all the urinals in the hospital. Maybe a stack of them in the pamphlet stand in the clinic, right next to the information on immunisation and STDs. Or one for every windscreen in the staff parking lot.

Considering the look on Cuddy's face right now, he decided not to give voice to these possibilities.

"Do you want to sit down?" he said instead. He was treated to a withering look.

"Oh please. I can be mad and pregnant at the same time, you know. My brain isn't going to melt."

"No, but I can practically see your blood pressure rising as we speak. And, hey, he has to come back sometime, right? Why don't we wait here and then you can yell at him all you want." And not at me, he added silently.

Somewhat placated - perhaps sensing that he was in fact just trying to be nice and not an evil, patronising man - she sat in one of House's visitor chairs. He hoped for House's sake, however, that he would continue to lay low. Somehow even while sitting down Cuddy managed to remain firmly on the warpath.

"What the hell was he thinking?" she said.

He knew people looked to him as the source of all House-related wisdom. And he did have a pretty good idea why he might have done this - but his aim for the moment wasn't to provide insight into his friend's motivation so much as it was to calm Cuddy down so that she would give up and go back to work, so that House would get out of his office and he could go back to work.

So he made something up. "People have been talking. I guess maybe it struck a nerve, he wanted to put some doubts to rest." He shrugged as he sat down next to her.

She wasn't buying it for a second. "He doesn't care what people think," she replied scornfully. "He's doing this because he likes driving me crazy." She sighed in exasperation. "It's just one thing after another with him lately. I mean if he's not... calling my mother behind my back," she spat, clearly still harbouring some bitterness over the incident, "He's sending me weird gifts, or he's breaking into my computer... And now he's sharing private test results with the entire hospital? This is fun for him."

"You could try ignoring him, it works for five-year-olds," he offered, but stopped once it became clear she wasn't listening. Instead, she was staring incredulously towards the front of the room. He turned to follow her gaze and saw House out in the corridor, face pressed against the glass, cheeks flaring as he made a blowfish on the door.

He joined Cuddy in staring for a moment. Well, he thought, since House had apparently gotten bored waiting, there didn't seem to be much point covering for him anymore.

Turning back to Cuddy, he told her the truth. "It's attention seeking behaviour. Surely you can see that. He's... just trying to get your attention. " He glanced back over at House and added, "Obviously."

Drawing her attention away from House she gestured with the test results still in her hand. "Well, he's got it."

"It's... not that kind of attention he's after, I don't think," he said carefully, and watched her deflate between one breath and the next, a frown marring her features. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. He could see she knew exactly what he was talking about. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

She laughed a little, self-consciously. "I don't know. Maybe if he stopped acting like a third-grader with a crush..."

He gave her a look indicating exactly how likely he thought that was. She rolled her eyes in response, then as one they looked back over at House, who had by now detached himself from the door. Seeing them watching he grinned unabashedly and started wiping his spit off the glass with his sleeve.

"Well, do something, will you?" he requested mildly. "It's getting kind of pathetic to watch."

"I would. Unfortunately the only option that I can think of right now involves taking his cane and..." She stopped herself from finishing the threat with a brisk shake of her head. Getting to her feet instead, she carefully smoothed her skirt and then moved to meet House as he came in through the door. "Don't say a word," she ordered. "I don't want to hear it. If there are any more of these, I want them taken down." She pushed the copy in her hand at House's chest.

For a moment it looked as if she might say more, but then settled for giving House another irritated look as she moved past him.

House was smiling, unconcerned as he tossed his head after her. "You think she's mad?"

Wilson sighed, watching as House made his way over to his desk and sat. "You know," he said casually, "Some guys just send flowers."

House snorted. "That would be counter-productive, seeing as my goal is to get her to never speak to me ever again. I think I'm finally making some headway."

"Seriously, 'do you want to go out sometime' - not that hard to say."

"I don't want to date her. Tormenting her suits me just fine."

"Well Cuddy's just going to snap and kill you one of these days. Guess that'll be your greatest triumph."

House sat back in his chair and fixed Wilson with a direct look, no hint of flippancy in his demeanour now. "Have you talked to her lately? Not about me, about the baby. She's reading books on child-rearing, researching local schools... discussing birthing techniques with the nurses. She's happy, excited even - and not just because we recently found out there's no extra limbs or chromosomes sprouting in her tummy."

"Happy about impending motherhood? Well clearly she should rearrange her priorities," he said sarcastically, unsure where House was going with this.

"It's new, though. She wasn't like this before. Before, she was too busy wading through about two tons of guilt," House said.

"So what's changed?"

"I told her she was ashamed of being pregnant. She went out and beat the board into submission. That's the thing with Cuddy, she's the kind of person, you tell her she's fat and she'll eat just to spite you. It's why her necklines get lower every year. She's at her best in defence mode, when she's got something to fight for, something to rail against. There's strength in adversity - Cuddy needs the adversity."

"So really this whole 'drive Cuddy off the deep end' thing - you're doing it for her sake."

House shrugged. "Well, it's fun, too."

"Right. But you don't like her," he said dryly. "You're not fooling anyone, you know. Admit it, you like her." House winced at that, as if it hurt him to hear. Wilson couldn't help but take pity on his emotionally stunted friend, adding more gently, "It's okay to like her."

"She's the devil," House said.

He shrugged. "It's not like you've ever been religious."

House was clearly trying not to be amused by that. "Well she is a hellcat in the sack. Shame I don't date fat chicks."

"Put that on a sign and hang it on your door. I dare you."

"There's adversity and then there's suicide." House thought about it for a moment. "Fifty bucks?"

He shook his head in refusal. "You're just trying to get out of picking up the tab tonight."

"I'd forgotten all about that." He made an innocent face Wilson didn't buy for a second.

"Right. You know what? I've got to get back to work," he said, getting to his feet. This had been more than enough sharing for one day, he thought. He was surprised House hadn't started calling him girl names again.

"Did you see this?" House was pulling something from one of the drawers beside him, forestalling his departure. It was yet another copy of the paternity test.

"Everyone's seen it by now, I'm pretty sure. Seriously, how many copies did you make?"

"This is the original." He waved it back and forth. "I think I might have it framed."

Eyebrows raised at that, he simply waited, looking down at House with his hands on his hips. He knew there had to be more coming.

"And then wrap it up and give it to Cameron for her birthday," House added.

There it was. "Yes, let's make sure every woman in your life hates your guts. Then you'll never have to actually deal with any of them."

"Pick up a couple of cigars for tonight," House's voice followed him over to the door. "Nice ones. We're celebrating the proof of my virility, after all."

There was something, a note in his voice, that made him turn back. "How does it feel?" he asked.

"It feels... like a good hangover waiting to happen." House shrugged. "Come on, it's worth a toast or three at least, we're talking about my offspring here. My baby." He said the words as if he was trying them on for size.

"Weird how things change," Wilson mused. "Up until a little while ago if you said that to me I would have just assumed you were talking about your bike."

House wasn't vulnerable very often, almost never by choice. When he was, Wilson always found it was the least he could do, making his friend laugh.

Because it was funny, the way things were turning out, the way things were changing. But at the same time there were some things that would always stay the same. At least he hoped so, anyway.