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?"
With his tongue poking out of the corner of his smirking lips, he snapped the towel at her a third time. He loved having fun with her; if she wasn't heavily pregnant, he might have been a little rougher - not to hurt her of course, but he knew Cuddy could give as good as she got and probably wouldn't hold back on being a little rough with him. Maybe he would have wrestled with her or chased her around the kitchen with the hand towel, flicking it at her until she got her own back.
He was about to snap the towel at her again but stopped in his tracks for a brief, startled moment at her announcement that she may have felt a contraction. Towel gripped at either end in his hands, he stared at her. It very quickly dawned on him, however, that she was jerking him around.
He relaxed with a rush of relief, giving her a look at the fact that she'd 'punk'd' him. "You rat," he retorted and he flicked the towel at her again, and then again for good measure. He went to snap the towel at her once more but at the last moment changed his angle, flicking the towel down at her shins instead.
"Don't make me chase you through the house. I can limp faster than you can waddle."
"Don't bet on it," Cuddy retorted. She thought she could probably move faster than he could...but she wasn't sure of that anymore. Under normal conditions she could easily out run him. Now, with her having to carry Junior along with her and his leg pain being a thing of the past.... Well, she wouldn't want to bet on the outcome of a race herself.
She had a smug grin on her face, though. She'd liked the way he froze when he thought she was going into labor. Sure, he'd figured out it was joke fast enough but still, she could get some mileage out of this thing. She only had a couple weeks left--please let it only be a couple weeks--and if playing the pregnancy card was the only way to make him behave, then she'd play it. She just hoped it wouldn't be a case of crying wolf. She'd be pretty pissed off if he ignored her when she really did go into labor.
She reached out and grabbed one end of the towel and kept a good tight grip on it. "Stop abusing the pregnant woman," she said, tugging him closer with the towel. "Just give me a kiss and then feed me."
"Is that a challenge?" he likewise retorted. "If you want to race around the house to see who's faster, game on."
He would race her, too... if the likelihood of her going into labour wasn't so high. No, she likely wouldn't go into labour just from doing something like waddling quickly around the house but he wasn't going to risk it. He'd gotten enough scares already in one day - he didn't want another scare and have it be the real thing.
He grunted in protest when she grabbed the towel and attempted to wrestle it from her hands. Instead, he was pulled towards her. "So demanding," he complained. "I bought you cake, I bought you clothes, I bought that truck which you've taken over..."
He smirked as he stepped in closer, though. Tugging the hand towel free, he grabbed both ends and looped it around the back of her neck to pull her to him.Still holding the towel, he leaned down and pecked her on the lips. "So, how many more times are you going to cry 'contraction'?" He pecked another quick kiss on her mouth. "Even when liars tell the truth, they're never believed. When you actually do go into labour, I might not believe you until you actually do throw a newborn at me."
"You can hardly complain about that. You've known me for years--you knew I was demanding."
She didn't see herself as demanding, of course. First, she hadn't demanded any of the stuff he was listing off. Those purchases had been purely his idea, not hers. Aside from that, though, she didn't think she was all that demanding, certainly not about the little stuff. Not even about some of the big stuff. She wasn't some whiny little diva who insisted he indulge her every whim. She never said no when he chose to indulge her. She wasn't an idiot, after all. She didn't demand it, though.
Her demands tended to be about things she considered important. Like House's psychiatric issues. She'd finally demanded he get treatment and she wasn't sorry about that. She demanded that he listen to her and...well, that was still an ongoing process but she wasn't sorry about it either. She'd made certain demands about the baby as well and again, she wasn't sorry. She knew he didn't like it when she put those kinds of demands on him, especially when she wouldn't let the subject drop. But when something mattered to her enough to put her foot down, she not only put her foot down, she dug her heels in. That wasn't anything new, though, and he should've realized she wasn't going to change.
She put her hands on his waist and leaned in for a kiss, but he was being a tease, only offering quick pecks. She scowled at him and tried again but again he pulled away after only the barest meeting of their lips. "I'll keep doing it as long as it's funny," she said defiantly. "In other words, as long as you keep freaking out every time I do."
She doubted he'd ignore her if she actually went into labor. She'd pretty much make sure he couldn't ignore her. In the meantime, though, it was his own fault. If he hadn't flipped out on the phone earlier over a perfectly innocent situation, she wouldn't have though to torment him with a few 'rehearsals.' She didn't want to push it too far because she didn't want to push him into a full-blown anxiety attack. But a little torture was amusing to her.
She knotted her hands in his shirt and pulled him down for a more satisfying kiss. Not a lust-crazed kiss, just an affectionate, even playful series of soft kisses along his mouth. Pleased with herself, she gave him a smug grin when she allowed him to pull back.
"Now feed me," she said. "And that's Junior's demand, not mine."
Well... maybe he freaked out a little bit. Okay, a lot. He thought it was wholly justified, though. He had good reason to freak out and it wasn't just because he was nervous about parenthood. Knowing the ins and outs of pregnancy and childbirth from a medical standpoint didn't help in the emotional arena. It was common for men who were first-time fathers to panic over their significant other going into labour. Of course, he never thought he'd be that sort of person, and he definitely never thought he'd end up being one of those first-time fathers.
"Well, okay. Maybe I get a little... apprehensive. But that's your fault," he was quick to add just as Cuddy pulled him down for a kiss. He had more to say on the matter but all conversation was put on hold for the several moments that he and Cuddy locked lips. It was a good reason to put conversation on hold - he never got sick of kissing her.
"Stop distracting me," he demanded when she let him go. He rolled his eyes at her command to be fed, especially at her claim that it was Junior's doing that she was so hungry, then he reached a hand around to pinch her ass.
"The kid's speaking through you now?" he asked as he stepped back to return to chopping the salad ingredients up. "I thought demonic possession usually came with a loud, bellowing voice and pea green vomit."
Cuddy smirked, which was not easy to do when she was kissing him. But listening to him try to blame her for his freakouts was amusing. She supposed technically that was true because she'd provided the source of his anxiety--a baby. But she wasn't trying to make him flip out. Well, maybe just a little bit right now, just for giggles. However, when the time came, she was going to be busy enough dealing with the birth. She wouldn't need to deal with his panic as well.
"Junior's not a demon," she said crisply, giving him a light slap on the ass in retaliation. "But yes, he does speak through me, in a manner of speaking. He controls when and how much I eat, when and how much I sleep. He even chooses what I wear to a certain extent."
She set the truck control on the far side of the counter. She used her foot to nudge the truck out from where it had gotten wedged against the drawer, then leaned over with a grunt to pick it up and get it out of the way, too. She didn't really care if it got broken but she would care if one of them tripped over it and fell. If she did a belly flop on the kitchen floor, that just might be enough to kick off her labor. Despite her claim she was ready to birth this baby, she didn't want to do it that way.
"If you're hoping for loud voices and vomit, though, just wait until he's born." She got a couple of glasses down from the cupboard and went to the fridge to get them something to drink with dinner. "Vomit, pee, poop--you'll get the full range of bodily fluids."
House took the knife up and resumed slicing into the tomato. "So, in other words," he replied, "you're being prepped for whatever hell there is to come once Junior is controlling you from the outside instead of from within."
He could identify in his own way what that was like. His leg - after the infarction, during his rehab and even long after rehab was over, his pain had dictated how much sleep he got and he'd had to revolve his entire life around it and his disability. And the Vicodin had dictated a lot of other things, like when and how much he could (or couldn't) crap, how and when he could eat, even sometimes dictated when and how much he could pee.
He'd gone through more sleepless nights than he could ever keep count of, and part of the reason his diet was so bad was out of learned habit - at his sickest points, all he could stomach was soup and sometimes a sandwich. That combined with depression and adjusting to a bachelor life after Stacy had left amounted to the habitual crap diet he still had today.
As Cuddy talked about vomit, pee and poop, House finished chopping up the tomato and tossed the slices into the salad bowl. "The human body is such a wonderful thing. Full of bad smells, excrement, mucus, bacteria, bile, bilirubin, emesis, drool..."
He began shredding lettuce and tossing it into the salad bowl. "At one stage or another, every one of those things is probably going to end up smeared on some part of my body. Which is why I plan on leaving the poopy diapers to you."
Seeing the baby's arrival as some kind of damnation was apparently House's only way of looking at it. Aside from a few brief moments of happily anticipating a new partner in crime, he seemed to focus on the negatives. She shouldn't be surprised because he always focused on the negative but she simply couldn't understand that mindset, not about a baby. She knew it could be hard work to raise a child and she did have some concerns but it was far outweighed by excitement. She didn't think she could see having a child as anything but positive even if she tried.
"Oh, no, no," she said quickly. She set the full glasses on the counter and turned to wag her finger at him. "If you're going to be a daddy, you're going to be 100% daddy. And that means diaper duty." She leaned forward and snatched a slice of tomato from the bowl. She popped it in her mouth, then started collecting the dishes and cutlery they'd need.
"I know you're not grossed out by a little baby poop. You're a doctor; you've seen far more disgusting things than that." She set the pile of dishes next to the salad bowl and leaned against the counter to look at him. "If you think you're getting out of the dirty work the way you avoid clinic duty--think again. And if you're just worried you don't know how to take care of a baby...." She shrugged. "You're a smart guy. You'll learn."
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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He was about to snap the towel at her again but stopped in his tracks for a brief, startled moment at her announcement that she may have felt a contraction. Towel gripped at either end in his hands, he stared at her. It very quickly dawned on him, however, that she was jerking him around.
He relaxed with a rush of relief, giving her a look at the fact that she'd 'punk'd' him. "You rat," he retorted and he flicked the towel at her again, and then again for good measure. He went to snap the towel at her once more but at the last moment changed his angle, flicking the towel down at her shins instead.
"Don't make me chase you through the house. I can limp faster than you can waddle."
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She had a smug grin on her face, though. She'd liked the way he froze when he thought she was going into labor. Sure, he'd figured out it was joke fast enough but still, she could get some mileage out of this thing. She only had a couple weeks left--please let it only be a couple weeks--and if playing the pregnancy card was the only way to make him behave, then she'd play it. She just hoped it wouldn't be a case of crying wolf. She'd be pretty pissed off if he ignored her when she really did go into labor.
She reached out and grabbed one end of the towel and kept a good tight grip on it. "Stop abusing the pregnant woman," she said, tugging him closer with the towel. "Just give me a kiss and then feed me."
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He would race her, too... if the likelihood of her going into labour wasn't so high. No, she likely wouldn't go into labour just from doing something like waddling quickly around the house but he wasn't going to risk it. He'd gotten enough scares already in one day - he didn't want another scare and have it be the real thing.
He grunted in protest when she grabbed the towel and attempted to wrestle it from her hands. Instead, he was pulled towards her. "So demanding," he complained. "I bought you cake, I bought you clothes, I bought that truck which you've taken over..."
He smirked as he stepped in closer, though. Tugging the hand towel free, he grabbed both ends and looped it around the back of her neck to pull her to him.Still holding the towel, he leaned down and pecked her on the lips. "So, how many more times are you going to cry 'contraction'?" He pecked another quick kiss on her mouth. "Even when liars tell the truth, they're never believed. When you actually do go into labour, I might not believe you until you actually do throw a newborn at me."
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She didn't see herself as demanding, of course. First, she hadn't demanded any of the stuff he was listing off. Those purchases had been purely his idea, not hers. Aside from that, though, she didn't think she was all that demanding, certainly not about the little stuff. Not even about some of the big stuff. She wasn't some whiny little diva who insisted he indulge her every whim. She never said no when he chose to indulge her. She wasn't an idiot, after all. She didn't demand it, though.
Her demands tended to be about things she considered important. Like House's psychiatric issues. She'd finally demanded he get treatment and she wasn't sorry about that. She demanded that he listen to her and...well, that was still an ongoing process but she wasn't sorry about it either. She'd made certain demands about the baby as well and again, she wasn't sorry. She knew he didn't like it when she put those kinds of demands on him, especially when she wouldn't let the subject drop. But when something mattered to her enough to put her foot down, she not only put her foot down, she dug her heels in. That wasn't anything new, though, and he should've realized she wasn't going to change.
She put her hands on his waist and leaned in for a kiss, but he was being a tease, only offering quick pecks. She scowled at him and tried again but again he pulled away after only the barest meeting of their lips. "I'll keep doing it as long as it's funny," she said defiantly. "In other words, as long as you keep freaking out every time I do."
She doubted he'd ignore her if she actually went into labor. She'd pretty much make sure he couldn't ignore her. In the meantime, though, it was his own fault. If he hadn't flipped out on the phone earlier over a perfectly innocent situation, she wouldn't have though to torment him with a few 'rehearsals.' She didn't want to push it too far because she didn't want to push him into a full-blown anxiety attack. But a little torture was amusing to her.
She knotted her hands in his shirt and pulled him down for a more satisfying kiss. Not a lust-crazed kiss, just an affectionate, even playful series of soft kisses along his mouth. Pleased with herself, she gave him a smug grin when she allowed him to pull back.
"Now feed me," she said. "And that's Junior's demand, not mine."
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Well... maybe he freaked out a little bit. Okay, a lot. He thought it was wholly justified, though. He had good reason to freak out and it wasn't just because he was nervous about parenthood. Knowing the ins and outs of pregnancy and childbirth from a medical standpoint didn't help in the emotional arena. It was common for men who were first-time fathers to panic over their significant other going into labour. Of course, he never thought he'd be that sort of person, and he definitely never thought he'd end up being one of those first-time fathers.
"Well, okay. Maybe I get a little... apprehensive. But that's your fault," he was quick to add just as Cuddy pulled him down for a kiss. He had more to say on the matter but all conversation was put on hold for the several moments that he and Cuddy locked lips. It was a good reason to put conversation on hold - he never got sick of kissing her.
"Stop distracting me," he demanded when she let him go. He rolled his eyes at her command to be fed, especially at her claim that it was Junior's doing that she was so hungry, then he reached a hand around to pinch her ass.
"The kid's speaking through you now?" he asked as he stepped back to return to chopping the salad ingredients up. "I thought demonic possession usually came with a loud, bellowing voice and pea green vomit."
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"Junior's not a demon," she said crisply, giving him a light slap on the ass in retaliation. "But yes, he does speak through me, in a manner of speaking. He controls when and how much I eat, when and how much I sleep. He even chooses what I wear to a certain extent."
She set the truck control on the far side of the counter. She used her foot to nudge the truck out from where it had gotten wedged against the drawer, then leaned over with a grunt to pick it up and get it out of the way, too. She didn't really care if it got broken but she would care if one of them tripped over it and fell. If she did a belly flop on the kitchen floor, that just might be enough to kick off her labor. Despite her claim she was ready to birth this baby, she didn't want to do it that way.
"If you're hoping for loud voices and vomit, though, just wait until he's born." She got a couple of glasses down from the cupboard and went to the fridge to get them something to drink with dinner. "Vomit, pee, poop--you'll get the full range of bodily fluids."
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He could identify in his own way what that was like. His leg - after the infarction, during his rehab and even long after rehab was over, his pain had dictated how much sleep he got and he'd had to revolve his entire life around it and his disability. And the Vicodin had dictated a lot of other things, like when and how much he could (or couldn't) crap, how and when he could eat, even sometimes dictated when and how much he could pee.
He'd gone through more sleepless nights than he could ever keep count of, and part of the reason his diet was so bad was out of learned habit - at his sickest points, all he could stomach was soup and sometimes a sandwich. That combined with depression and adjusting to a bachelor life after Stacy had left amounted to the habitual crap diet he still had today.
As Cuddy talked about vomit, pee and poop, House finished chopping up the tomato and tossed the slices into the salad bowl. "The human body is such a wonderful thing. Full of bad smells, excrement, mucus, bacteria, bile, bilirubin, emesis, drool..."
He began shredding lettuce and tossing it into the salad bowl. "At one stage or another, every one of those things is probably going to end up smeared on some part of my body. Which is why I plan on leaving the poopy diapers to you."
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Seeing the baby's arrival as some kind of damnation was apparently House's only way of looking at it. Aside from a few brief moments of happily anticipating a new partner in crime, he seemed to focus on the negatives. She shouldn't be surprised because he always focused on the negative but she simply couldn't understand that mindset, not about a baby. She knew it could be hard work to raise a child and she did have some concerns but it was far outweighed by excitement. She didn't think she could see having a child as anything but positive even if she tried.
"Oh, no, no," she said quickly. She set the full glasses on the counter and turned to wag her finger at him. "If you're going to be a daddy, you're going to be 100% daddy. And that means diaper duty." She leaned forward and snatched a slice of tomato from the bowl. She popped it in her mouth, then started collecting the dishes and cutlery they'd need.
"I know you're not grossed out by a little baby poop. You're a doctor; you've seen far more disgusting things than that." She set the pile of dishes next to the salad bowl and leaned against the counter to look at him. "If you think you're getting out of the dirty work the way you avoid clinic duty--think again. And if you're just worried you don't know how to take care of a baby...." She shrugged. "You're a smart guy. You'll learn."
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