Author's note: Sorry I didn't post a new chapter yesterday. I am having a week from hell, and so I may not be able to keep to the usual posting schedule, but I will try my best. At least for this chapter, the angst level has been turned down a little bit. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 11: As Normal as it Gets

That Wednesday was House's first official pre-natal appointment, and it set a pattern that would be followed almost every week for the next few months. By the afternoon, House was in a foul mood, and his minions avoided him as much as possible. Before doing the ultrasound, Barry asked how House was feeling, and House supplied a list of symptoms, reciting them in the same impersonal manner that he listed the symptoms of his patients. It was only after the ultrasound confirmed that fetus was still all right that Wilson could feel House beginning to relax. Janet Larson was frequently at the appointments, and often one of the anesthesiologists was there as well.

The following Sunday, House and Wilson celebrated the fact that House had gone an entire week without throwing up. He'd gained three pounds, and no longer looked like an escapee from the oncology ward.

As the second trimester began, House noticed that his clothes were getting tighter. So he did what every man has done since the invention of the beer belly: he bought larger t-shirts and shoved his jeans lower on his hips beneath his belly, all the while insisting that he could still wear the same pants he wore in college. Wilson was secretly amused. Luckily the weather was turning colder, and the additional layers of clothing appropriate for fall helped hide the fact that House's belly was growing. The only thing his colleagues noticed was that he no longer looked painfully thin, and he seemed to have more energy.

Inwardly, Wilson was worried. They never talked about the baby, and House hardly acknowledged what was happening to his body. It was as if, by ignoring it, they could somehow insulate themselves from the pain if something went wrong. He knew that subconsciously, House did recognize the pregnancy, because he would usually eat the food that Wilson prepared without complaint, even though it contained more fruits and vegetables than their usual fare, and at lunchtime, a salad would often appear on House's tray. It was only when he was sure that House was fast asleep, that Wilson would move his hands down over his lover's belly, learning the new contours of his body. It was something he knew he could never do when House was awake.

November arrived, cold and icy, with reminders everywhere that the holidays were just around the corner, and with them, family commitments that couldn't be avoided. Both men were feeling a bit apprehensive, because it was close to the time to tell their families about their relationship, as well as the baby. In the end, they both took the easy way out, switching shifts so that they were working on Thanksgiving, and promising their families that they would see them in December. Another month to figure out how to tell them.

Thanksgiving found House scheduled to be in the clinic for seven hours, with only a short break around noon. One of the other doctors had come down with the flu, and it seemed like House saw an endless stream of kids that had ingested weird objects, shoved them up their noses, and people with indigestion and vomiting. Gotta love holiday get-togethers. Chase, moonlighting in the ER, was seeing the more violent effects of alcohol on family gatherings—contusions, lacerations, and stabbings.

The day had started out amusingly enough: the look on Cuddy's face when she realized House had traded Bob Jameson two hours of clinic duty on Christmas Eve for seven hours on Thanksgiving. The look on everyone else's faces was priceless – each of them was wondering what had they done to deserve seven hours of having Dr. House inflicted upon them. His leg had been aching all morning, and after four hours of sitting on the backless stool, his back was killing him. He hid out in his office during lunchtime, and then was back for another three hours, before Wilson finally came down to rescue him.

"How about dinner? I've heard the cafeteria actually produced a decent turkey dinner," Wilson suggested.

"Yeah right. Half of my patients today were puking because of improperly cooked poultry."

"Welcome to my world, except for the reasons why they are throwing up."

"Yeah, you guys intentionally poison your patients. Mine were all done in by loving family members who are too stupid to use a meat thermometer." House used his cane to push himself off of the stool. He stretched, trying to relieve the knots in his back. "There ought to be a rule against making a pregnant man do seven hours of clinic duty."

"Well, you didn't need to trade with Bob. You could have just gone home for Thanksgiving and faced your parents and explained how you got knocked up."

House glared at him and limped down the hall towards the elevators.

Early December

As much as he hated the clinic, he was forced to admit that occasionally good things could happen there. It was 20 minutes before noon, and he figured that if he could take his time, this could be his last patient of the day, which was why he was listening to his patient describe in excruciating detail his business trip to Arizona. That was when he felt it. It was difficult to describe – a twitch or a flutter – but unmistakably the baby. He smiled and leaned back against the wall to relieve the muscles in his back. He didn't even realize that his right hand had moved to cover his belly. He smiled when he felt the movement again. When the patient began to describe the meals he had eaten on the trip, House's patience was exhausted.

"OK, that's enough. You have the flu. If you had actually read all of those articles you looked up on the internet, you would know that Huntavirus has an incubation period of 2-4 weeks, which means you wouldn't be showing symptoms for another 5-20 days. Go home! Take some ibuprofen for the aches and pains, drink lots of fluids, and quit wasting my time."

"But why did you keep asking me about my trip if it had no relevance?"

"I was hoping for something interesting—sleeping with a married colleague, or picking up hookers on the Indian reservation. But no, the most exciting thing about your trip was the fajitas. Which, by the way, is pronounced 'fa-HEE-tas' and not 'fa-GEE-tas'."

He scribbled a note on the chart and exited the clinic. "Dr. House signing out at 11:57 AM." Five minutes later he walked through his office and out onto his balcony. He considered climbing over the short wall that separated their balconies, but decided against it. Instead he threw pebbles at the door until Wilson stuck his head out. "I need a consult!"

Wilson was looking exasperated. "I'm with a patient," he said, looking back over his shoulder at the nervous looking woman on the other side of the desk.

"Would I interrupt if it wasn't important?"

Wilson rolled his eyes, and wisely chose not to answer. He excused himself and stepped out onto his balcony. "What is so important that I had to drop what I was doing?"

"I felt the baby move."

Instantly, Wilson's anger evaporated. "Really? When? What did it feel like?"

"It was five minutes ago, and it felt like a flutter. Kind of a weird feeling, but it was definitely the baby."

Wilson's eyes were shining with joy, and a little relief. "Finally! The book said anywhere between the sixteenth to twenty-first week, and you are already at twenty weeks. I was starting to worry."

"Yeah, me too." House admitted. "Are you ready for lunch? We're hungry," he said, his hand absently tracing his belly.

Wilson glanced back at his office and sighed. "First, I have to tell Mrs. Dalton that she has non-Hodgkin's lymphoma."

House was heading back into his office. "Well, I'd suggest not grinning like an idiot when you do so."

Wilson tried to think of a comeback and failed. He settled for glaring at his lover's back. He took a minute to compose himself before heading back into his office to deliver the bad news.

Two days later, House was again forced to admit that good thing could happen in the clinic. Barry was running the ultrasound probe across House's belly, and after pronouncing that everything looked good, he asked, "Do you want to know the sex of the baby?"

House and Wilson looked at each other, and then nodded in unison.

TBC