"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."
House let out a devious cackle at the fright Cuddy got. Of the things he was looking forward to with this kid, it was getting up to mischief. All kids loved mischief and therefore made fantastic partners-in-crime. And all the different opportunities he had to pull pranks on Cuddy with the kid - her birthday, April Fool's Day, Let's Prank Mom For The Hell Of It Day...
His amusement was short-lived, however. At first, he rolled his eyes at Cuddy's exclamation of him trying to put her into labour. But she kept pushing the subject and he started to frown slightly. He could understand why she'd be ready to get the pregnancy over with - she hardly looked comfortable. But he wasn't in any rush to get the show on the road. Sure, there were some things he was looking forward to with cautious optimism but there were a lot of other things he just didn't know what to expect, which made him plain cautious.
"Shall I get a teaspoon and crack you open like an egg?" he asked dryly. "How about I sit by you and pick all the bits of shell off while the baby pecks its way out?"
While Cuddy may have been serious about getting the baby out if only so she was no longer so cramped and squished, he also knew that if he really did take her for a bike ride or made other attempts to scare her, she wouldn't be happy. More than that, he wasn't in any rush to induce the birth unless absolutely necessary.
He headed back to the couch and sat with a slump beside Cuddy. He looked at her. "I'll take a raincheck," he said. "If I'm going to throw toys at you, I'd rather do it without running the risk of having a newborn baby thrown back at me. If you want me to throw things, how about one of us throws something to eat together?"
"I'd rather the baby take the natural route to freedom than to be cracked open but at this point--whatever works."
Her comment about 'whatever works' wasn't serious. She was ready to have this baby...or as ready as she'd ever be. She still had some concerns, some nervousness about going through the delivery and even about dealing with a newborn but some of those questions couldn't be answered ahead of time. She simply had to go through the experience and deal with it as it happened.
So really, she was ready. Ready, willing, and if she were able to nudge the process along, she'd probably do it. Except for the fact she didn't want to do anything artificial to speed the process. She wanted the baby to come when it was ready and when her body was ready and for everything to go normally and naturally. She just hoped she didn't explode before that happened.
"Chicken," she taunted, tossing the duck in his lap. She did chuckle at the mental image of House's expression if he were to suddenly have a newborn baby thrown at him. She let out a weary sigh, though, when he mentioned food. She was hungry, just not hungry enough to want to move from the couch.
"If by someone, you mean you--I wouldn't say no." She sat there, slumped on the couch for a brief moment, then began to scoot herself forward. "I'm pretty sure I've got something in the freezer."
"Actually, I think cock would be more accurate." He knew he was nervous about the baby's birth but he didn't like being called a chicken over it, even if Cuddy was only joking. Not wanting to draw attention it, though, he added, "I'll be quarterback in the delivery room - you can throw a newborn at me then. But until then, I'm not stepping foot over the antenatal line of scrimmage."
It was possible he wouldn't even want to step over the 'antenatal line of scrimmage' when the time came for him to play quarterback in the delivery room. If how he'd panicked earlier on in the day was anything to go by... Then again, maybe it would all be different when the actual time came. Worrying and anxious thoughts often had a tendency to be much more dramatic and anxiety-provoking than when an actual situation arose.
Just like Cuddy, he sighed, too. Well, he'd find out what everything was like when it came to it. By then, he was going to have to pull his act together and get on with the show, regardless how freaked he might be. He gave himself a mental shake. He didn't want to dwell on it. He had enough on his plate to dwell over at the moment.
As Cuddy began scooting forward, House watched her for all of a second or two before he also scooted forward and dashed his arm out in front of her to block her from getting up. "I'll look. You beach yourself on the couch."
He wasn't a big fan of cooking and it wasn't how he'd planned on spending his first night officially free, but Cuddy looked ridiculously uncomfortable and he'd noticed her ankles were puffy. He could slap something edible together. Grabbing his cane, he dropped the duck back in Cuddy's lap as he headed out of the room.
When he reached the kitchen, he opened the fridge to see what Cuddy had. If he was at home, he'd make something basic and not necessarily wholly nutritious, like a sandwich, or some canned soup and bread, or packaged pasta, or a heat up ready made meal. Not only did Cuddy not have most of that kind of stuff, none of it was healthy for a pregnant woman. After browsing through her pantry and freezer to see what else she had, he settled on leftover quiche, which only had to be heated up in the microwave, and ingredients for salad.
He put the quiche aside for the time being and piled the salad ingredients on the counter. Once he'd found a big enough bowl for the salad, a knife and the chopping board, he started slicing through a tomato.
Cuddy thought about protesting for all of about two seconds. Then she grabbed the duck--for safe keeping--and sagged back against the couch. She really wasn't motivated to cook even though she was hungry. It seemed like a monumental effort at the moment and, although she hadn't intended to make House cook, she wasn't going to fight him for the privilege.
"You could always call and have something delivered," she called after him. She closed her eyes and relaxed for a moment, then she started to struggled her way off the couch again. She perched on the edge of the cushion and reached down to pry her shoes off her swollen feet before finally pushing all the way up to her feet. She'd like to rest for a while but she needed to pee and she needed to make sure House wasn't destroying her kitchen.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, she headed back to the living room. She grabbed the remote for the monster truck and took a few seconds to familiarize herself with the controls. It had been a while since she'd operated a radio controlled toy but it wasn't exactly rocket science. She figured she could manage to get the stupid thing from one room to another.
She turned the truck on and slowly steered it toward the door. As she got a feel for the way it handled, she sped up--although only as fast as she could waddle. She steered it into the kitchen and drove it straight at House's ankles. She quickly backed it up and then bumped it against his feet again.
"You're right," she said, preparing to run the truck in a circle around him. "This is kind of fun."
House heard the mechanical whine of the RC monster truck before it trundled into the kitchen, though he wasn't expecting it to be driven right at his feet. He startled slightly at the bump, stopping what he was doing to look down at the truck and then up at Cuddy standing in the doorway.
When she did it a second time, he gave her a deadpan look. For all her bafflement earlier at his joy of playing with the truck, she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself now. He went to step back, only for Cuddy to start running the truck in a circle around his feet.
"What happened to wanting to put my toy six feet under?" he asked, pretending to be annoyed. "Funny how it's only fun when you're playing with it. And you tell me that I need to learn to play well with others." He went to step back again, letting out a slight exasperated sigh when the truck got in his way yet again. But then he snorted.
"Don't think that I won't out-annoy you," he warned while the truck ran another circuit around his feet. "Because I will." Putting the knife down on the chopping board, he decided not to let Cuddy decide whether she wanted to be out-annoyed or not. He grabbed the hand towel, pretending he was using it just to wipe his hands.
But then he pulled the towel taut in both hands and managed to get out of the truck's way, limp-hopping over to Cuddy quickly. As he reached her, he playfully flicked the towel at her, then did it again as he hopped a step closer.
"It's completely different when I'm playing with it," Cuddy agreed. She was getting the hang of the controls but she didn't try anything fancy. She simply kept running it around House. She didn't actually find driving the truck all that interesting. The fun was in using it to get a little revenge for the way he'd driven over her feet when she got home. Anything she could use to get a little payback on the annoyance front was going to be fun.
"Uh huh," she said, distracted by keeping the truck under control. She didn't think there could be any doubt he was the more annoying of them. In fact, she was pretty sure if the question were ever put to a vote, he'd win by a landslide. She wasn't trying to be more annoying however. She was merely giving him a taste of his own medicine.
"Hey!" she complained when he snapped the towel at her. He wasn't doing it hard enough to hurt but he was distracting her from the truck controls. She tried to bring the truck around and zoom it at him from behind but the stupid thing got hung up on the corner of a drawer and she couldn't get it to wiggle free.
She gave him an aggravated look when he flicked the towel again. She'd warned him about getting too playful--and annoying--with her lest he send her into labor. Okay, sure, it was unlikely any of his little tricks would actually have any effect on Junior but she could still threaten him with the possibility.
"Oh," she said with mock concern. She took one hand off the truck controls and pressed it to her belly. "Was that a contraction I felt?"
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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His amusement was short-lived, however. At first, he rolled his eyes at Cuddy's exclamation of him trying to put her into labour. But she kept pushing the subject and he started to frown slightly. He could understand why she'd be ready to get the pregnancy over with - she hardly looked comfortable. But he wasn't in any rush to get the show on the road. Sure, there were some things he was looking forward to with cautious optimism but there were a lot of other things he just didn't know what to expect, which made him plain cautious.
"Shall I get a teaspoon and crack you open like an egg?" he asked dryly. "How about I sit by you and pick all the bits of shell off while the baby pecks its way out?"
While Cuddy may have been serious about getting the baby out if only so she was no longer so cramped and squished, he also knew that if he really did take her for a bike ride or made other attempts to scare her, she wouldn't be happy. More than that, he wasn't in any rush to induce the birth unless absolutely necessary.
He headed back to the couch and sat with a slump beside Cuddy. He looked at her. "I'll take a raincheck," he said. "If I'm going to throw toys at you, I'd rather do it without running the risk of having a newborn baby thrown back at me. If you want me to throw things, how about one of us throws something to eat together?"
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Her comment about 'whatever works' wasn't serious. She was ready to have this baby...or as ready as she'd ever be. She still had some concerns, some nervousness about going through the delivery and even about dealing with a newborn but some of those questions couldn't be answered ahead of time. She simply had to go through the experience and deal with it as it happened.
So really, she was ready. Ready, willing, and if she were able to nudge the process along, she'd probably do it. Except for the fact she didn't want to do anything artificial to speed the process. She wanted the baby to come when it was ready and when her body was ready and for everything to go normally and naturally. She just hoped she didn't explode before that happened.
"Chicken," she taunted, tossing the duck in his lap. She did chuckle at the mental image of House's expression if he were to suddenly have a newborn baby thrown at him. She let out a weary sigh, though, when he mentioned food. She was hungry, just not hungry enough to want to move from the couch.
"If by someone, you mean you--I wouldn't say no." She sat there, slumped on the couch for a brief moment, then began to scoot herself forward. "I'm pretty sure I've got something in the freezer."
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It was possible he wouldn't even want to step over the 'antenatal line of scrimmage' when the time came for him to play quarterback in the delivery room. If how he'd panicked earlier on in the day was anything to go by... Then again, maybe it would all be different when the actual time came. Worrying and anxious thoughts often had a tendency to be much more dramatic and anxiety-provoking than when an actual situation arose.
Just like Cuddy, he sighed, too. Well, he'd find out what everything was like when it came to it. By then, he was going to have to pull his act together and get on with the show, regardless how freaked he might be. He gave himself a mental shake. He didn't want to dwell on it. He had enough on his plate to dwell over at the moment.
As Cuddy began scooting forward, House watched her for all of a second or two before he also scooted forward and dashed his arm out in front of her to block her from getting up. "I'll look. You beach yourself on the couch."
He wasn't a big fan of cooking and it wasn't how he'd planned on spending his first night officially free, but Cuddy looked ridiculously uncomfortable and he'd noticed her ankles were puffy. He could slap something edible together. Grabbing his cane, he dropped the duck back in Cuddy's lap as he headed out of the room.
When he reached the kitchen, he opened the fridge to see what Cuddy had. If he was at home, he'd make something basic and not necessarily wholly nutritious, like a sandwich, or some canned soup and bread, or packaged pasta, or a heat up ready made meal. Not only did Cuddy not have most of that kind of stuff, none of it was healthy for a pregnant woman. After browsing through her pantry and freezer to see what else she had, he settled on leftover quiche, which only had to be heated up in the microwave, and ingredients for salad.
He put the quiche aside for the time being and piled the salad ingredients on the counter. Once he'd found a big enough bowl for the salad, a knife and the chopping board, he started slicing through a tomato.
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"You could always call and have something delivered," she called after him. She closed her eyes and relaxed for a moment, then she started to struggled her way off the couch again. She perched on the edge of the cushion and reached down to pry her shoes off her swollen feet before finally pushing all the way up to her feet. She'd like to rest for a while but she needed to pee and she needed to make sure House wasn't destroying her kitchen.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, she headed back to the living room. She grabbed the remote for the monster truck and took a few seconds to familiarize herself with the controls. It had been a while since she'd operated a radio controlled toy but it wasn't exactly rocket science. She figured she could manage to get the stupid thing from one room to another.
She turned the truck on and slowly steered it toward the door. As she got a feel for the way it handled, she sped up--although only as fast as she could waddle. She steered it into the kitchen and drove it straight at House's ankles. She quickly backed it up and then bumped it against his feet again.
"You're right," she said, preparing to run the truck in a circle around him. "This is kind of fun."
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When she did it a second time, he gave her a deadpan look. For all her bafflement earlier at his joy of playing with the truck, she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself now. He went to step back, only for Cuddy to start running the truck in a circle around his feet.
"What happened to wanting to put my toy six feet under?" he asked, pretending to be annoyed. "Funny how it's only fun when you're playing with it. And you tell me that I need to learn to play well with others." He went to step back again, letting out a slight exasperated sigh when the truck got in his way yet again. But then he snorted.
"Don't think that I won't out-annoy you," he warned while the truck ran another circuit around his feet. "Because I will." Putting the knife down on the chopping board, he decided not to let Cuddy decide whether she wanted to be out-annoyed or not. He grabbed the hand towel, pretending he was using it just to wipe his hands.
But then he pulled the towel taut in both hands and managed to get out of the truck's way, limp-hopping over to Cuddy quickly. As he reached her, he playfully flicked the towel at her, then did it again as he hopped a step closer.
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"Uh huh," she said, distracted by keeping the truck under control. She didn't think there could be any doubt he was the more annoying of them. In fact, she was pretty sure if the question were ever put to a vote, he'd win by a landslide. She wasn't trying to be more annoying however. She was merely giving him a taste of his own medicine.
"Hey!" she complained when he snapped the towel at her. He wasn't doing it hard enough to hurt but he was distracting her from the truck controls. She tried to bring the truck around and zoom it at him from behind but the stupid thing got hung up on the corner of a drawer and she couldn't get it to wiggle free.
She gave him an aggravated look when he flicked the towel again. She'd warned him about getting too playful--and annoying--with her lest he send her into labor. Okay, sure, it was unlikely any of his little tricks would actually have any effect on Junior but she could still threaten him with the possibility.
"Oh," she said with mock concern. She took one hand off the truck controls and pressed it to her belly. "Was that a contraction I felt?"
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