It went without saying that he was having fun, the most fun he'd had in what seemed like months. If there was anything he wanted to do, it was shake off any memories of the hospital and make the most of what time there was left before the baby was born. And what better way to do it than hijack Cuddy's place to do all the childish things he wanted? Her house was bigger than his apartment for one - it was definitely big enough to race an RC monster truck around, that was for sure.
At her comment about the disco ball, he stopped what he was doing to look at her. "The store had run out of disco balls. And strippers. Pity." Returning to the truck, he reversed it so it was facing the living room and knocked it against Cuddy's foot before it trundled over her toes and past the couch. He limped after it, brushing past Cuddy.
Reaching the coffee table, he put the remote down on it after bashing the truck head-on into the TV cabinet. "I got you something, though," he told her as he turned to the heap of plastic bags strewn on the couch. He rummaged through them until he produced a plain white cake box.
"I was going to put this in the fridge but got distracted by the new toy," he said, affecting sheepishness as he headed back to her. "Thought we could have some cake. You know, to celebrate."
He handed the box over to her and stood by to watch her open it. The moment she opened the lid, he clapped his hands loudly. The 'cake' - a bright pink plastic noise activated birthday cake, complete with all sorts of zany decorations - suddenly burst into life, jiggling around in a crazy dance while an upbeat 'Happy Birthday' tune bellowed from it.
Cuddy stumbled slightly as she tried to get away from the truck climbing over her feet. She was glad House was in a good mood. She was glad he was happy and enjoying himself and not drowning in self-doubt and self-hatred. There was a definite lightness to his mood, a playfulness she'd missed. Still, she hoped he wasn't going to do this all evening. The truck, especially, would get annoying.
"I'm almost afraid to ask what," she muttered when he told her he'd gotten her something. She headed toward the couch with the intention of sitting for a moment until she could process his party mood. The couch was full, though, of bags of--apparently--more party supplies.
She didn't have long to wonder at how much money he'd spent on...stuff because he handed her a box. With some trepidation, she opened it. She stared at the cake, eyebrows raised, then lifted her eyes to watch him dancing around to the music. She shook her head, chuckling in disbelief.
"Well, it's a bit early for my birthday. Early for Junior's birthday, too...as far as we know." She chuckled again. "It's good to see you in a celebratory mood, though."
"I'm a free man," he replied. "What's not to celebrate?"
The gift was for Cuddy... but also just because he found it amusing, much like he liked the monster truck and the other things he still had in the bags. "Speaking of Junior," he said, "I got him - or her - a couple of things, too."
He plopped down on the couch and dug around in the bags. He produced a few onesies and bibs and slapped them onto the coffee table one by one so Cuddy could read what was written on the front of them all: 'I drink 'til I pass out' with a picture of a bottle on it, 'I'm not poopin' - I'm just thinkin' real hard', a bib with 'If it's so yummy, YOU eat it' scrawled across it, a jumpsuit with 'Snot happens' written across it in big green letters, a white t-shirt with 'I'm just like Mom - I never shut up' on it, and another onesie with a black silhouette of a baby in a white diaper with 'iPood' written across the top.
Cuddy watched House unpack his other gifts, the ones for Junior. Her expression grew increasingly bewildered at the display of bad taste in babywear. She had to laugh, though, at the iPood shirt. Yes, it was tacky. They were all tacky but that one was also kind of clever.
"I see you're hoping Junior will inherit your sense of fashion as well as your sense of humor," she said. She pushed some of the bags aside and sat next to him on the couch. The shirts and bibs were like a slap in the face to her aesthetic sensibilities. She couldn't imagine dressing her child in these...these things. She wasn't so fashion obsessed she felt the need to dress her child in designer diapers or anything crazy like that but she did like to think her child's clothes would reflect just a hint of class.
She wasn't going to say that, though. This was the first time she'd really seen him having fun with preparations for the baby and she wasn't going to say anything to dampen his enthusiasm. She wanted him to be enthusiastic. She wanted him to get into the spirit of welcoming this kid. A few tacky bibs were a small price to pay.
Still with a somewhat bewildered smile on her face, she leaned sideways and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'm glad you had a good time this afternoon," she said. "Especially a good time that didn't involve strippers or the police."
"Of course. No one has better fashion sense or a better sense of humour than me."
Somehow, he doubted Cuddy would make much use of these bibs and clothes but he certainly would. To him, they were fun and amusing. And not only that, they were unique. His particular favourite was the iPood shirt, one he was going to have the kid make a lot of use out of, he'd decided. If Cuddy didn't want any of these clothes, he'd just keep them at his place for the kid to wear, either around his apartment or out.
Shopping for them had actually been kind of fun, a stark contrast to the panic he'd felt earlier when he thought Cuddy was in labour. Browsing around the store had taken his mind right off that, though. Instead, he'd been examining these baby clothes and picturing Junior wearing them, and had grinned to himself. The kid would make a real statement in clothes like these, he'd thought to himself, and soon had started thinking about taking the kid out, perhaps to a park, with him or her wearing the iPood t-shirt. It was rare for him to feel excitement about being a father, but at that point he'd found himself feeling exactly that.
"I did," he answered about having a good afternoon. "Though, an afternoon with strippers and the fuzz would've made it even more interesting." He reached a hand into one of the bags and produced the first thing his fingers touched.
"Oh, this is also for you," he said, handing over to her a black t-shirt packaged in plastic wrapping. "I thought of you the moment I saw it." It was a tight shirt, low cropped, with MILF written across the front in big white letters.
"Interesting, maybe. I doubt it would've been much fun."
Then again, who knew what House might find fun. He probably would consider strippers fun. A lot of men would. Involving the police, though, surely wouldn't be fun for anyone. It wouldn't be fun for the police who had to deal with House, she was sure. And it definitely wouldn't be fun for her. Quite the opposite, in fact.
She tore the plastic wrap off her next 'present' and shook out the shirt so she could see it clearly. She turned an incredulous look on him as she held the shirt in front of her. "Seriously?"
There was no way she'd ever be seen in public wearing that shirt. It was one thing for House to call her a MILF. She understood it was his way of saying he thought she was sexy so she took it in the spirit intended. But the term was crude and distasteful and she didn't like it. She was proud of her body and her sex appeal but she'd never wear a shirt that advertised it. That was beyond tacky.
"You do realize this is never going to happen?" she said, shaking the shirt at him before setting it on the coffee table. "For all you know, it might be false advertising. You don't know I will be a MILF once I actually become a Mom. I might be all flabby and sloppy and totally not a MILF."
"Jeez, all you had to say was thanks," he retorted as Cuddy expounded on how she wasn't going to wear the shirt and why. He hadn't doubted Cuddy wouldn't be overly appreciative of the shirt beyond a roll of her eyes but he hadn't bought the shirt for her to appreciate it so much as he was just being an ass. Although, he was also trying to make a point, too - baby or not, she was a MILF to him, no two ways about it. Though she didn't look her best heavily pregnant, with how puffy and tired she was, none of that took away from how sexy he still found her. That was going to apply after the kid was born, too.
Naturally, she didn't see it that way. "Oh, please," he replied. "Someone as obsessive about looking good as you wouldn't let yourself get slobby and flabby. Fifty bucks says you'll start doing stomach crunches the day you come back from the hospital."
The last thing Cuddy would ever do was become lazy or tardy about her appearance and House knew that. Of course her priorities will change but he was pretty sure that having a kid wasn't going to stop her from exercising. She was already a small and naturally slender person, which went in her favour, too. But that wasn't even the point as far as he was concerned.
"Besides, who cares if you did end up flabby? You're forty, you're having a kid. There's always going to come a point where gravity wins in the end." Taking the drinking tube attached to his hat into his mouth, he slurped on the soda and then reached up to pull the hat off. Once he set it on the coffee table, he sat back with a slump, knees wide spread, and he looked over at Cuddy. "I haven't sexually harassed you for the last eight years for no reason."
Cuddy didn't think she was obsessive about looking good. She cared about her appearance--no argument about that. She liked to look good and she took measures to look her best. She exercised, she ate a healthy diet, she wore clothes she liked and which she thought flattered her. She didn't consider that obsessive, though. She didn't go to extremes. She definitely didn't plan to come home with her new baby only to jump into an exercise routine.
Although, House brought up a good point. At her age, gravity was harder and harder to resist. Being thin meant there wasn't as much to sag but after all her muscles had been stretched out by pregnancy, she was going to have to work to firm things up. Otherwise, there was going to be an unacceptable level of sagging. She was vain enough about her appearance that she wasn't about to let that happen without a fight.
"You harrass me because it's fun for you," she accused. "That's your reason." She settled back once he'd slumped back against the couch. She leaned against him and reached for his hand.
"The thing about a shirt like that is there's two possibilities. One, I'm not a MILF and wearing that shirt makes me look both pathetic and stupid. Or two, I am a MILF, in which case I shouldn't need to announce it on a t-shirt. I should be able to walk into a room and men will know it." She turned to look at him. "I kind of like the idea I can walk into a room and men will simply know I'm sexy without having to read it on my chest."
"Well, there's that," he conceded. Harassing Cuddy was fun. But there was the other reason where she was exceptionally good looking and he'd always liked her despite the times she pissed him off, therefore she was the object of his harassment. The more he liked someone, the more he picked on them, and he'd been picking on Cuddy for as long as he'd known her.
When she clasped his hand, he looked down at it and squeezed her hand in return. He frowned a little at her statement about liking the idea of men checking her out. He understood perfectly why they'd check her out - they checked her out for the very same reason he did, and he was always privy to guys doing it, too, whenever he spotted them. The possessive streak in him, however, didn't want Cuddy encouraging that.
"They do read it on your chest because you have 'lady lumps' written across it in big boobs." His frowned deepened slightly. "What do you need other men thinking you're sexy for, anyway? Only what I think matters."
He shifted on the couch to face her more and he leaned up against her side with a playful, imploring look. "It just so happens that I think you're a MILF. Currently with three lovely lady lumps." He glanced pointedly to her stomach which, because of the way her belly button caused a nipple-like bump under her shirt, made it look like a third breast. A very big, hard breast.
"Well..." He lifted his hand and gestured to her breasts. "Specifically these two particular lady lumps."
"I don't need other men to think I'm sexy. I'm not the one who wants MILF plastered across my chest, after all."
She knew a lot of people would claim she dressed the way she did because she wanted men to see her as sexy, that she was inviting that kind of attention. There was some truth to that, of course. She did like that kind of attention. It was an ego stroke and she enjoyed that as much as the next person.
There was more to it than that, though. She liked to dress in flattering clothes because it made her feel good. She also did it because she worked in what was typically a man's job. She had to be tough. She had to be determined. She had to play hardball. She wore ultra-feminine clothing to remind everyone, including herself, she was a woman and she could be a woman while doing a 'man's' job.
She rolled her eyes as he pointed out all her lumps. She was fond of those lumps herself, including the temporary but huge one that had put all the other bumps and curves to shame. He could hardly expect to enjoy those bumps, though, and demand that no one else notice them.
"What you think matters most," she agreed. Of course his opinion was most important. She loved him. She was attracted to him. His attraction to her meant more than random appreciative glances from anyone else. That didn't mean those other random glances didn't feel good. It just meant they weren't important.
"Look, it's just like you enjoying Cameron's attention. It doesn't mean anything but it feels nice. It's flattering," she said. She lifted her hand to stroke her fingertips over his cheek. The clean shaven look hadn't lasted. That was a shame in some ways. In others...well, he looked like himself. Like it or not, scruffy was his style.
"Truthfully, I'd rather be flattered by someone telling me what a great job I do running a hospital." Professional appreciation always meant more to her. Sure, she worked at her looks but part of that was simple genetics. She couldn't take credit for that. The things she accomplished at work, though, that was all her: her intelligence, her hard work. Compliments about her medical or administrative accomplishments were far more satisfying.
"But hey, you take your ego boosts where you can. If it's only a look from a man--or a woman for that matter--then it still feels good."
"Except her kind of flattery comes with a bonus all inclusive nosiness," he pointed out. "So, it's flattery often in a buzzing fly kind of way - I'm constantly telling Cameron to shoo when she starts buzzing to close."
While Cameron's nosiness did get on his nerves, the attention she gave him was pretty ego boosting. It was especially ego boosting back when she was newer to his team and a lot more naive about him. Of course, with her naivety came his taunting, partly because it amused him how obvious her crush was and partly because as flattering at her attention was, a part of him had trouble believing she actually found him attractive.
Cuddy, on the other hand... "Actually, you've always been something of a buzzing fly yourself," he added. "Getting in my ear about clinic duty, paperwork, bedside manner, work in general..." He looked at her as she stroked his cheek. "Your ability to annoy is proportional to how good you are at your job. And it just so happens that you're extremely annoying as a boss."
Which, if Cuddy did the math, was his way of telling her that he thought she was great at her job. And she was - she made running a hospital look easy with how efficient she was at it. Regardless how much he sometimes poked taunts in her direction about her medical astuteness and how much he resented any authority she enforced over him, he had nothing but utmost respect for her. His ways of showing his respect may not be exactly respectful, but he did respect her and the work she did much more than he let on.
His eyes widened slightly at the implication that women checked Cuddy out, which of course they would if they swung that way. "That's kinda hot," he replied. "Girl on girl action makes me feel pretty good, too."
"Yes, well, I've always done my best to be...annoying."
It was just like House to compliment her professional abilities by calling her annoying. Unless, of course, he meant her skill was inversely proportional to her ability to annoy.... No, he wouldn't say that. Not if he wanted to live through the evening. He might think it. She knew he didn't have much respect for any administrator and she was sure he had no idea of everything she'd done to protect him. Most of the time she was merely another annoying, rule-enforcing buzzkill.
He did know some of what she'd done, though. He certainly knew she kept him employed while four other Deans had fired him. Deep down, she thought he was probably grateful for that. She wasn't going to hold her breath waiting for him to ever come right out and say it. He was far more likely to offer these backhanded compliments. Fortunately that was part of his language she had learned to speak over the years.
She threw her head back and let out a deep chuckle when he perked up at the thought of girl on girl action. "You'll have to find some other way to indulge that fantasy. I'm not into girls."
She hadn't really been talking about women checking her out in a sexual manner. Women could and did appreciate another woman's beauty without it being sexual. Cuddy certainly did. In fact, when she received a compliment from another woman, she always assumed it was non-sexual. She had been approached once or twice by someone who made it clear her interest went beyond aesthetics but Cuddy had simply said thank you but not interested. It didn't bother her and hey, it was still flattering.
"This is strictly a one-woman relationship," she reminded him in a light tone. She glanced down at her belly. "Although I'm just about big enough to be two women all on my own."
"Damn." His face dropped into a look of disappointment that Cuddy wasn't into girls. "So much for that fantasy coming true."
As much as that was a fantasy he thought about sometimes, he wasn't being serious. Their relationship was complicated enough - doing something like adding a third person to the mix, even for just a good time, would only further complicate things in probably pretty ugly ways.
"Double the size means double the fun," he said of her size when she pointed it out. "Although, it could also mean that I could get squashed to death underneath you."
He was just teasing her. Though her belly was huge, Cuddy herself was still petite and as small everywhere else as she'd always been, baby weight and puffiness aside. He was looking forward to being able to hug her and kiss her without the huge baby bulge between them. Instead, there'd be the baby itself between them, wriggling around or crying or suckling on Cuddy's breast or demanding attention. And that was going to happen anywhere within the next few weeks.
"Hey, check this out," he said, to distract himself from the bubble of nerves that had erupted in his belly from his thoughts. He turned his head and burrowed his hand into one of the plastic bags, searching for something. He produced a plush yellow, floppy duck and held it up for Cuddy to see.
"Something to entertain Junior with," he explained. "Watch." It was a slingshot toy - he slotted two fingers into a pouch behind the duck's head and drew back its feet with his other fingers so it was stretched taut. Then he let it go with a snap and the duck sailed across the room. As it did, it made a series of quack quack quack! sounds before hitting some books on the bookshelf.
"That was my concern as well," Cuddy said mock agreement, giving him the evil eye as she spoke. Even with her huge stomach and the weight gain, she was still too small to squish him, certainly not enough to kill him. She might make him uncomfortable if she climbed on top of him but he'd survive the experience relatively unharmed. Unless, of course, he insisted on continuing to make comments about her size. She knew she was huge; she didn't necessarily want him drawing attention to the fact.
She perked up a bit when he pulled out the stuffed duck. Now that was a baby gift she could appreciate. As it turned out, she only appreciated it for a moment, though. Her expression turned faintly horrified when he stretched the duck out, then let it fly.
"What the...?" An almost surprised laugh escaped her. The duck was kind of funny, but who on Earth came up with this stuff? She couldn't imagine what kind of strange creativity it took to come up with the idea of turning a fluffy little duck into an airborn missile. House was the only person she knew with that kind of twisted humor but apparently he wasn't alone.
"I'm sure the two of you will get hours of entertainment from Mr. Duck," she said, patting him on the leg. "Just...don't break anything, okay?"
He thought the duck was a great find. The duck was not only cute, it was plush, colourful and comical, not to mention entertaining - the perfect toy for a kid. It was the last thing he'd picked up while browsing through the store: as he'd struggled his way to the cashier with his arms full of goodies, the word 'slingshot' had caught his eye and he immediately stopped to investigate.
He was pleased Cuddy seemed to find it amusing, too, even if she also seemed bemused at the same time. "What'll happen if we do break something?" he asked. "Get a spanking? Put our heads in stocks? Be punished with a week's worth of house cleaning?"
Breakage was inevitable around kids, just like dirt and damage. Kids were like puppies - endlessly curious, full out boundless energy and no concept of being gentle or careful. He kept that comparison to himself, though. The last time he'd made that comparison to Cuddy. she hadn't been the slightest bit impressed.
Though, speaking of breaking things, there were a lot of things in his apartment that was special to him, that he didn't want broken or even touched; things he'd collected along the way during his life. He hoarded lots of stuff but it was all stuff that mattered to him, not junk. Well, none of it was junk to him, anyway. And books, too - there was barely a surface in his apartment that wasn't stacked with books, and some of them had huge sentimental value to him. He read a lot when he was on his own, something he wasn't going to be able to do as much once this kid was born. And God forbid if the kid ever took a crayon or marker to any of his books.
He scooted to the edge of the couch to get up and retrieve the duck. "Meanwhile, Junior and I will get hours of entertainment out of 'Mr. Duck'." He limped around the coffee table to the bookshelf. "Firing it at each other. Firing it any guests you have. Firing it at Mommy when she's completely unaware."
He stooped down and gathered the duck up, then turned and playfully shot the duck at Cuddy, the toy quacking while airborne until it hit her right in the middle of her chest.
"You don't want to know," Cuddy said coolly when House wanted to know what would happen if he and Junior broke something. If her 'evil witch' reputation was going to be good for anything, it ought to be good for scaring the two of them into not destroying her home.
She knew things got broken when kids were around. It was inevitable. Kids simply didn't think more than two seconds ahead and they certainly didn't consider all the possible consequences of their actions. She was going to have to child-proof the house before the kid got to the crawling stage, both to protect the kid and her things. The accidents she couldn't prevent, well, she'd simply have to learn to live with a certain amount of breakage and chaos. However, that didn't extend to House. He, after all, should know better.
She startled and threw her hands up as the duck came flying at her, squawking all the way. "Hey," she yelped, grabbing the duck as if it might take off again. "Are you trying to put me into labor?"
She hesitated, a thoughtful look on her face. "Because I actually don't think I'd mind that. I thought you might, though." If his near panic on the phone earlier was any clue, he was not nearly ready for daddyhood yet despite his shopping splurge on silly kid stuff. He was still in the theoretical fatherhood stage as yet. Soon he wouldn't have a choice, though, and since she was ready to be done....
"But if you're okay with it, come on," she said, gesturing at her huge stomach with the duck still clutched in one hand. "Scare me. Throw toys at me. Take me for a ride on your bike. Let's get this show on the road."
At her comment about the disco ball, he stopped what he was doing to look at her. "The store had run out of disco balls. And strippers. Pity." Returning to the truck, he reversed it so it was facing the living room and knocked it against Cuddy's foot before it trundled over her toes and past the couch. He limped after it, brushing past Cuddy.
Reaching the coffee table, he put the remote down on it after bashing the truck head-on into the TV cabinet. "I got you something, though," he told her as he turned to the heap of plastic bags strewn on the couch. He rummaged through them until he produced a plain white cake box.
"I was going to put this in the fridge but got distracted by the new toy," he said, affecting sheepishness as he headed back to her. "Thought we could have some cake. You know, to celebrate."
He handed the box over to her and stood by to watch her open it. The moment she opened the lid, he clapped his hands loudly. The 'cake' - a bright pink plastic noise activated birthday cake, complete with all sorts of zany decorations - suddenly burst into life, jiggling around in a crazy dance while an upbeat 'Happy Birthday' tune bellowed from it.
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"I'm almost afraid to ask what," she muttered when he told her he'd gotten her something. She headed toward the couch with the intention of sitting for a moment until she could process his party mood. The couch was full, though, of bags of--apparently--more party supplies.
She didn't have long to wonder at how much money he'd spent on...stuff because he handed her a box. With some trepidation, she opened it. She stared at the cake, eyebrows raised, then lifted her eyes to watch him dancing around to the music. She shook her head, chuckling in disbelief.
"Well, it's a bit early for my birthday. Early for Junior's birthday, too...as far as we know." She chuckled again. "It's good to see you in a celebratory mood, though."
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The gift was for Cuddy... but also just because he found it amusing, much like he liked the monster truck and the other things he still had in the bags. "Speaking of Junior," he said, "I got him - or her - a couple of things, too."
He plopped down on the couch and dug around in the bags. He produced a few onesies and bibs and slapped them onto the coffee table one by one so Cuddy could read what was written on the front of them all: 'I drink 'til I pass out' with a picture of a bottle on it, 'I'm not poopin' - I'm just thinkin' real hard', a bib with 'If it's so yummy, YOU eat it' scrawled across it, a jumpsuit with 'Snot happens' written across it in big green letters, a white t-shirt with 'I'm just like Mom - I never shut up' on it, and another onesie with a black silhouette of a baby in a white diaper with 'iPood' written across the top.
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"I see you're hoping Junior will inherit your sense of fashion as well as your sense of humor," she said. She pushed some of the bags aside and sat next to him on the couch. The shirts and bibs were like a slap in the face to her aesthetic sensibilities. She couldn't imagine dressing her child in these...these things. She wasn't so fashion obsessed she felt the need to dress her child in designer diapers or anything crazy like that but she did like to think her child's clothes would reflect just a hint of class.
She wasn't going to say that, though. This was the first time she'd really seen him having fun with preparations for the baby and she wasn't going to say anything to dampen his enthusiasm. She wanted him to be enthusiastic. She wanted him to get into the spirit of welcoming this kid. A few tacky bibs were a small price to pay.
Still with a somewhat bewildered smile on her face, she leaned sideways and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'm glad you had a good time this afternoon," she said. "Especially a good time that didn't involve strippers or the police."
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Somehow, he doubted Cuddy would make much use of these bibs and clothes but he certainly would. To him, they were fun and amusing. And not only that, they were unique. His particular favourite was the iPood shirt, one he was going to have the kid make a lot of use out of, he'd decided. If Cuddy didn't want any of these clothes, he'd just keep them at his place for the kid to wear, either around his apartment or out.
Shopping for them had actually been kind of fun, a stark contrast to the panic he'd felt earlier when he thought Cuddy was in labour. Browsing around the store had taken his mind right off that, though. Instead, he'd been examining these baby clothes and picturing Junior wearing them, and had grinned to himself. The kid would make a real statement in clothes like these, he'd thought to himself, and soon had started thinking about taking the kid out, perhaps to a park, with him or her wearing the iPood t-shirt. It was rare for him to feel excitement about being a father, but at that point he'd found himself feeling exactly that.
"I did," he answered about having a good afternoon. "Though, an afternoon with strippers and the fuzz would've made it even more interesting." He reached a hand into one of the bags and produced the first thing his fingers touched.
"Oh, this is also for you," he said, handing over to her a black t-shirt packaged in plastic wrapping. "I thought of you the moment I saw it." It was a tight shirt, low cropped, with MILF written across the front in big white letters.
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Then again, who knew what House might find fun. He probably would consider strippers fun. A lot of men would. Involving the police, though, surely wouldn't be fun for anyone. It wouldn't be fun for the police who had to deal with House, she was sure. And it definitely wouldn't be fun for her. Quite the opposite, in fact.
She tore the plastic wrap off her next 'present' and shook out the shirt so she could see it clearly. She turned an incredulous look on him as she held the shirt in front of her. "Seriously?"
There was no way she'd ever be seen in public wearing that shirt. It was one thing for House to call her a MILF. She understood it was his way of saying he thought she was sexy so she took it in the spirit intended. But the term was crude and distasteful and she didn't like it. She was proud of her body and her sex appeal but she'd never wear a shirt that advertised it. That was beyond tacky.
"You do realize this is never going to happen?" she said, shaking the shirt at him before setting it on the coffee table. "For all you know, it might be false advertising. You don't know I will be a MILF once I actually become a Mom. I might be all flabby and sloppy and totally not a MILF."
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Naturally, she didn't see it that way. "Oh, please," he replied. "Someone as obsessive about looking good as you wouldn't let yourself get slobby and flabby. Fifty bucks says you'll start doing stomach crunches the day you come back from the hospital."
The last thing Cuddy would ever do was become lazy or tardy about her appearance and House knew that. Of course her priorities will change but he was pretty sure that having a kid wasn't going to stop her from exercising. She was already a small and naturally slender person, which went in her favour, too. But that wasn't even the point as far as he was concerned.
"Besides, who cares if you did end up flabby? You're forty, you're having a kid. There's always going to come a point where gravity wins in the end." Taking the drinking tube attached to his hat into his mouth, he slurped on the soda and then reached up to pull the hat off. Once he set it on the coffee table, he sat back with a slump, knees wide spread, and he looked over at Cuddy. "I haven't sexually harassed you for the last eight years for no reason."
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Cuddy didn't think she was obsessive about looking good. She cared about her appearance--no argument about that. She liked to look good and she took measures to look her best. She exercised, she ate a healthy diet, she wore clothes she liked and which she thought flattered her. She didn't consider that obsessive, though. She didn't go to extremes. She definitely didn't plan to come home with her new baby only to jump into an exercise routine.
Although, House brought up a good point. At her age, gravity was harder and harder to resist. Being thin meant there wasn't as much to sag but after all her muscles had been stretched out by pregnancy, she was going to have to work to firm things up. Otherwise, there was going to be an unacceptable level of sagging. She was vain enough about her appearance that she wasn't about to let that happen without a fight.
"You harrass me because it's fun for you," she accused. "That's your reason." She settled back once he'd slumped back against the couch. She leaned against him and reached for his hand.
"The thing about a shirt like that is there's two possibilities. One, I'm not a MILF and wearing that shirt makes me look both pathetic and stupid. Or two, I am a MILF, in which case I shouldn't need to announce it on a t-shirt. I should be able to walk into a room and men will know it." She turned to look at him. "I kind of like the idea I can walk into a room and men will simply know I'm sexy without having to read it on my chest."
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When she clasped his hand, he looked down at it and squeezed her hand in return. He frowned a little at her statement about liking the idea of men checking her out. He understood perfectly why they'd check her out - they checked her out for the very same reason he did, and he was always privy to guys doing it, too, whenever he spotted them. The possessive streak in him, however, didn't want Cuddy encouraging that.
"They do read it on your chest because you have 'lady lumps' written across it in big boobs." His frowned deepened slightly. "What do you need other men thinking you're sexy for, anyway? Only what I think matters."
He shifted on the couch to face her more and he leaned up against her side with a playful, imploring look. "It just so happens that I think you're a MILF. Currently with three lovely lady lumps." He glanced pointedly to her stomach which, because of the way her belly button caused a nipple-like bump under her shirt, made it look like a third breast. A very big, hard breast.
"Well..." He lifted his hand and gestured to her breasts. "Specifically these two particular lady lumps."
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She knew a lot of people would claim she dressed the way she did because she wanted men to see her as sexy, that she was inviting that kind of attention. There was some truth to that, of course. She did like that kind of attention. It was an ego stroke and she enjoyed that as much as the next person.
There was more to it than that, though. She liked to dress in flattering clothes because it made her feel good. She also did it because she worked in what was typically a man's job. She had to be tough. She had to be determined. She had to play hardball. She wore ultra-feminine clothing to remind everyone, including herself, she was a woman and she could be a woman while doing a 'man's' job.
She rolled her eyes as he pointed out all her lumps. She was fond of those lumps herself, including the temporary but huge one that had put all the other bumps and curves to shame. He could hardly expect to enjoy those bumps, though, and demand that no one else notice them.
"What you think matters most," she agreed. Of course his opinion was most important. She loved him. She was attracted to him. His attraction to her meant more than random appreciative glances from anyone else. That didn't mean those other random glances didn't feel good. It just meant they weren't important.
"Look, it's just like you enjoying Cameron's attention. It doesn't mean anything but it feels nice. It's flattering," she said. She lifted her hand to stroke her fingertips over his cheek. The clean shaven look hadn't lasted. That was a shame in some ways. In others...well, he looked like himself. Like it or not, scruffy was his style.
"Truthfully, I'd rather be flattered by someone telling me what a great job I do running a hospital." Professional appreciation always meant more to her. Sure, she worked at her looks but part of that was simple genetics. She couldn't take credit for that. The things she accomplished at work, though, that was all her: her intelligence, her hard work. Compliments about her medical or administrative accomplishments were far more satisfying.
"But hey, you take your ego boosts where you can. If it's only a look from a man--or a woman for that matter--then it still feels good."
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While Cameron's nosiness did get on his nerves, the attention she gave him was pretty ego boosting. It was especially ego boosting back when she was newer to his team and a lot more naive about him. Of course, with her naivety came his taunting, partly because it amused him how obvious her crush was and partly because as flattering at her attention was, a part of him had trouble believing she actually found him attractive.
Cuddy, on the other hand... "Actually, you've always been something of a buzzing fly yourself," he added. "Getting in my ear about clinic duty, paperwork, bedside manner, work in general..." He looked at her as she stroked his cheek. "Your ability to annoy is proportional to how good you are at your job. And it just so happens that you're extremely annoying as a boss."
Which, if Cuddy did the math, was his way of telling her that he thought she was great at her job. And she was - she made running a hospital look easy with how efficient she was at it. Regardless how much he sometimes poked taunts in her direction about her medical astuteness and how much he resented any authority she enforced over him, he had nothing but utmost respect for her. His ways of showing his respect may not be exactly respectful, but he did respect her and the work she did much more than he let on.
His eyes widened slightly at the implication that women checked Cuddy out, which of course they would if they swung that way. "That's kinda hot," he replied. "Girl on girl action makes me feel pretty good, too."
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It was just like House to compliment her professional abilities by calling her annoying. Unless, of course, he meant her skill was inversely proportional to her ability to annoy.... No, he wouldn't say that. Not if he wanted to live through the evening. He might think it. She knew he didn't have much respect for any administrator and she was sure he had no idea of everything she'd done to protect him. Most of the time she was merely another annoying, rule-enforcing buzzkill.
He did know some of what she'd done, though. He certainly knew she kept him employed while four other Deans had fired him. Deep down, she thought he was probably grateful for that. She wasn't going to hold her breath waiting for him to ever come right out and say it. He was far more likely to offer these backhanded compliments. Fortunately that was part of his language she had learned to speak over the years.
She threw her head back and let out a deep chuckle when he perked up at the thought of girl on girl action. "You'll have to find some other way to indulge that fantasy. I'm not into girls."
She hadn't really been talking about women checking her out in a sexual manner. Women could and did appreciate another woman's beauty without it being sexual. Cuddy certainly did. In fact, when she received a compliment from another woman, she always assumed it was non-sexual. She had been approached once or twice by someone who made it clear her interest went beyond aesthetics but Cuddy had simply said thank you but not interested. It didn't bother her and hey, it was still flattering.
"This is strictly a one-woman relationship," she reminded him in a light tone. She glanced down at her belly. "Although I'm just about big enough to be two women all on my own."
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As much as that was a fantasy he thought about sometimes, he wasn't being serious. Their relationship was complicated enough - doing something like adding a third person to the mix, even for just a good time, would only further complicate things in probably pretty ugly ways.
"Double the size means double the fun," he said of her size when she pointed it out. "Although, it could also mean that I could get squashed to death underneath you."
He was just teasing her. Though her belly was huge, Cuddy herself was still petite and as small everywhere else as she'd always been, baby weight and puffiness aside. He was looking forward to being able to hug her and kiss her without the huge baby bulge between them. Instead, there'd be the baby itself between them, wriggling around or crying or suckling on Cuddy's breast or demanding attention. And that was going to happen anywhere within the next few weeks.
"Hey, check this out," he said, to distract himself from the bubble of nerves that had erupted in his belly from his thoughts. He turned his head and burrowed his hand into one of the plastic bags, searching for something. He produced a plush yellow, floppy duck and held it up for Cuddy to see.
"Something to entertain Junior with," he explained. "Watch." It was a slingshot toy - he slotted two fingers into a pouch behind the duck's head and drew back its feet with his other fingers so it was stretched taut. Then he let it go with a snap and the duck sailed across the room. As it did, it made a series of quack quack quack! sounds before hitting some books on the bookshelf.
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She perked up a bit when he pulled out the stuffed duck. Now that was a baby gift she could appreciate. As it turned out, she only appreciated it for a moment, though. Her expression turned faintly horrified when he stretched the duck out, then let it fly.
"What the...?" An almost surprised laugh escaped her. The duck was kind of funny, but who on Earth came up with this stuff? She couldn't imagine what kind of strange creativity it took to come up with the idea of turning a fluffy little duck into an airborn missile. House was the only person she knew with that kind of twisted humor but apparently he wasn't alone.
"I'm sure the two of you will get hours of entertainment from Mr. Duck," she said, patting him on the leg. "Just...don't break anything, okay?"
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He was pleased Cuddy seemed to find it amusing, too, even if she also seemed bemused at the same time. "What'll happen if we do break something?" he asked. "Get a spanking? Put our heads in stocks? Be punished with a week's worth of house cleaning?"
Breakage was inevitable around kids, just like dirt and damage. Kids were like puppies - endlessly curious, full out boundless energy and no concept of being gentle or careful. He kept that comparison to himself, though. The last time he'd made that comparison to Cuddy. she hadn't been the slightest bit impressed.
Though, speaking of breaking things, there were a lot of things in his apartment that was special to him, that he didn't want broken or even touched; things he'd collected along the way during his life. He hoarded lots of stuff but it was all stuff that mattered to him, not junk. Well, none of it was junk to him, anyway. And books, too - there was barely a surface in his apartment that wasn't stacked with books, and some of them had huge sentimental value to him. He read a lot when he was on his own, something he wasn't going to be able to do as much once this kid was born. And God forbid if the kid ever took a crayon or marker to any of his books.
He scooted to the edge of the couch to get up and retrieve the duck. "Meanwhile, Junior and I will get hours of entertainment out of 'Mr. Duck'." He limped around the coffee table to the bookshelf. "Firing it at each other. Firing it any guests you have. Firing it at Mommy when she's completely unaware."
He stooped down and gathered the duck up, then turned and playfully shot the duck at Cuddy, the toy quacking while airborne until it hit her right in the middle of her chest.
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She knew things got broken when kids were around. It was inevitable. Kids simply didn't think more than two seconds ahead and they certainly didn't consider all the possible consequences of their actions. She was going to have to child-proof the house before the kid got to the crawling stage, both to protect the kid and her things. The accidents she couldn't prevent, well, she'd simply have to learn to live with a certain amount of breakage and chaos. However, that didn't extend to House. He, after all, should know better.
She startled and threw her hands up as the duck came flying at her, squawking all the way. "Hey," she yelped, grabbing the duck as if it might take off again. "Are you trying to put me into labor?"
She hesitated, a thoughtful look on her face. "Because I actually don't think I'd mind that. I thought you might, though." If his near panic on the phone earlier was any clue, he was not nearly ready for daddyhood yet despite his shopping splurge on silly kid stuff. He was still in the theoretical fatherhood stage as yet. Soon he wouldn't have a choice, though, and since she was ready to be done....
"But if you're okay with it, come on," she said, gesturing at her huge stomach with the duck still clutched in one hand. "Scare me. Throw toys at me. Take me for a ride on your bike. Let's get this show on the road."
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