Work Text:
Full House
House wrinkled his nose. Then he stretched his toes under the sheets. Finally he rolled his head to the side on the pillow, slowly willing his eyelids open. He preferred to wake up in small increments; consciousness was too traumatic to face all at once. When he finally opened his eyes, he decided he might have to reconsider the notion of waking ever being non-traumatic. A pair of pale blue eyes regarded him somberly from just inches away and the unexpected sight startled a grunt from him.
"Mommy's crying," Nathan said bluntly.
House frowned. "What?"
"What?" Wilson popped up from the other side of the bed like a jimmy in the box, echoing House's confusion.
House rubbed at his eyes, hating the feeling of being rushed to complete the waking process. "What do you mean, Mommy's crying?"
"I want breakfast and she's still in bed and she's crying." Nathan was still wearing his pajamas and his unruly curls were smashed flat on one side of his head, creases pressed in his cheek from his pillow. House ran a hand through his own unruly but much thinner hair as Wilson climbed out of bed.
"She's fine," House told Wilson.
"Of course she is," Wilson said but he continued to hop toward the door as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers. House sighed and looked back at Nathan.
"She's fine," he repeated, certain he'd have better luck convincing a three and a half-year-old.
"Then why's she crying?"
"The baby makes her back hurt and when her back hurts she can't sleep," House explained as he pushed himself upright and planted his feet on the floor. Nathan scooted to the side to make room for House's legs but kept his eyes firmly fixed on his father. "And when she gets tired, she cries. Just like you cry when you get tired."
"Do not," Nathan insisted, a stubborn set to his jaw.
"Do so," House taunted. Nathan's lip protruded even further in a pout. House rolled his eyes and he placed a hand on Nathan's shoulder, nudging him toward the door. "Mommy set out your clothes for pre-school?"
"Yes," Nathan said, and House could still hear the pout in his voice.
"Then get dressed and meet me in the kitchen. I'll be in to get your breakfast."
~~**~~
"Induce me," Cuddy demanded the moment House walked into her bedroom. He looked to Wilson, who threw up his hands in a helpless gesture. Obviously he'd already been through this discussion and hadn't managed to convince her to forget the idea.
"You don't want to be induced," House said, reminding her of her own decision. "It's 'unnatural'."
"Don't care anymore."
"Yes, you do."
"Don't," Cuddy shot back, her jaw set stubbornly. House stared at her and Wilson merely crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the dresser, waiting--apparently--for a miracle.
"Can't be induced unless your cervix is favorable," House pointed out. "Have you checked your cervix lately?"
"Yes," Cuddy snapped, staring at him in disbelief. "While I was doing a few tantric yoga positions this morning, I stuck my head between my legs and looked up my own vagina."
"Wow," House breathed, glancing at Wilson
"Hey, you know better than to argue with her when she's in mood. And nine months pregnant."
"She is in the room," Cuddy said. "And not in a mood."
"Well…there is one natural way to induce you…," House said suggestively.
"Touch me and die," Cuddy said immediately.
"You're not going to have sex with her," Wilson said, sounding scandalized by the notion. Apparently that wasn't the miracle he'd been waiting for.
"Why not? Just 'cause you put the baby in there, doesn't mean I can't help get it out."
"That's an old wives' tale," Wilson insisted.
"Who better to know about babies than old wives?" House asked.
"Doctors, maybe?" Wilson suggested sarcastically.
"There's plenty of anecdotal evidence that sex leads to labor within twenty-four hours."
"Anecdotal evidence." Wilson threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Well, then, by all means, have at it."
"No one's having sex with me," Cuddy hissed. House and Wilson both froze for a moment, staring at the pale, bloated, and really pissed off woman sitting cross-legged in the middle of the king-sized bed.
"I'm…going to get ready for work." Wilson made a quick exit, calling for Nathan as he left.
Left alone to battle the dragon in its den, House gave Cuddy another assessing look, then shuffled over to the bed. "Don't kill me," he pretended to beg as he settled on the bed behind her. He pressed his hands to her lower back and began kneading firmly.
"I'm not having sex with you," she insisted even though she practically melted into the pressure of his hands.
"Your lips say no-no but your undilated cervix says yes-yes." House continued rubbing. "Tell me again why you wanted another kid?"
"Because I want another one," she said irritably. "And because I wasn't this miserable with Nathan."
"You were. You've just forgotten it." House slowly worked his hands higher on her back, then just as slowly began to slip one hand around her side.
Cuddy slapped his hand away before it could reach her breast. "Do I look like I want to have sex? Do I look like I'm even capable of having sex?"
"What happened to the never-say-no Cuddy? Oh, wait, you always say no." House let out an exaggerated sigh. "And all this time you only wanted me for my sperm."
"That and your parking space." Cuddy tried to reach around and slap him again. He grabbed her hand and placed it on her belly, wrapping his own arms around her. He waited a few moments until finally she gave in, sagging into his grasp.
"My back is killing me," she whispered.
"I know," he said. "Trust me."
~~**~~
"She's a beauty," Chase said as he leaned over Wilson's shoulder to look at the baby. "Looks just like her mother."
"Thank god," House exclaimed dramatically as Wilson shot him a disgusted look. Chase and Foreman simply glanced at each other and shook their heads with familiar exasperation. "What? Can you imagine a baby with his eyebrows?"
"She actually is Wilson's?" Chase asked.
"I told you she was," Wilson said, clearly annoyed at not having been believed.
"Yeah, but I thought you and House were just working a scam to clean up in the baby pool."
"We would've, too, but Cuddy wouldn't let us play," House complained.
Chase grinned, then looked down by the side of Cuddy's bed. "Hey, Nathan, what do you think of your new little sister?"
"She's noisy," Nathan said carelessly, clearly uninterested in the all the fuss over the new baby. He ran a car back and forth along the floor by the hospital bed despite the fact that House kept throwing up roadblocks with his cane.
"Also like her mother," House said from his perch on the side of Cuddy's bed. She smacked him on the shoulder. "What? I didn't say you're noisy in bed."
"And I'm sure we're all grateful for your discretion," Foreman said dryly.
"Nathan, take your Daddy for a walk until the grown-ups finish talking," Cuddy said.
"I induce you against my better judgment and this is the thanks I get?" House whined while Nathan tugged at his cane.
"You were induced?" Foreman asked Cuddy.
"Don't ask," Cuddy and Wilson said in unison. House smirked and fondled the head of his cane suggestively. Chase and Foreman exchanged confused looks, then decided it really would be better to not ask.
"Buy him a frozen yogurt," she told Nathan as House finally gave into the insistent tugging. "That'll keep him quiet."
Chase watched Nathan lead House out of the office, then glanced back at Cuddy. "Isn't it a bit like having three children?"
"It's like having four," Cuddy said with a pointed look at Wilson. He gaped at her, shrugging his shoulders as if to ask "what did I do?" Cuddy merely snorted in response. "Fortunately, being Dean of Medicine prepared me well for the challenge." She suddenly frowned as she gazed at the three men in her room. "Speaking of which, why do I have three department heads in my room? And one more on his way to have ice cream? Who's running this place?"
"I believe Cameron is," Chase said.
"Go," Cuddy ordered, reaching for her daughter. Chase shrugged good-naturedly and he and Foreman headed for the door. Wilson glanced after them, then he looked back at Cuddy as he handed the baby to her, his mouth pursed in uncertainty. He actually took a hesitant step toward the door before Cuddy rolled her eyes. "No, you idiot. You can stay."
~~**~~
"You do realize that kind of grunting is only attractive during sex," House said loudly. He lay on the bed, flat on his back, and stared at the ceiling. "Maybe not even then."
"If I don't do this kind of grunting outside of sex…." Cuddy huffed breathlessly as she forced herself to do five more crunches, each one drawing another grunt from her. She had a small mat spread on the bedroom floor and wore an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts while she did her nightly exercises. "You won't want to have sex with me."
House glanced over to the other side of the bed where Wilson was leaning back against the headboard, his eyes half closed. Wilson merely shrugged when he noticed House's gaze. He preferred to leave the arguing with Cuddy to House. House, after all, had far more practice.
"Wilson's fat and I still want to have sex with him," House observed. Wilson made a disgusted noise.
Cuddy stopped mid-crunch to glare at House. "Wilson's not fat."
"He's…not as skinny as he used to be. Especially not after the second pregnancy," House argued. Wilson was prone to suffering sympathetic pregnancy symptoms--most obviously weight gain--which had provided House with endless opportunities to mock him.
"None of us are," Cuddy grunted.
"Exactly," Wilson agreed rather vehemently, giving House a 'so there' look. Then he turned to face Cuddy. "So what's the problem?"
"You're not as skinny as you used to be," Cuddy said, her face flushed with exertion as she got to her feet. "But I'm…have you seen my stomach?"
"No, actually," House cut in. "You won't let us."
"Cuddy, you've had two kids," Wilson said, waving at her to join them in bed. He grasped her hand as she edged closer and pulled her in, rolling her between the two men. "So what if your stomach isn't as flat as it used to be?"
"It's different for men. They can get old, go gray, gain a few pounds and no one notices."
"I notice when Wilson gains a few pounds," House said helpfully. Wilson shot him a look that said he wasn't even in the same neighborhood as helpful, then he wrapped an arm around Cuddy and snuggled up against her back. House scooted closer, leaning in to kiss her as his hand began to inch its way under her t-shirt.
"So you have curvier curves," he murmured, sliding his hand over her breast. "Men like curves."
Cuddy pushed at him. "You're just saying that because you want some action. And don't do that. You know what happens when…." Cuddy's voice came to an abrupt halt and House looked down at two damp spots darkening the shirt directly over her nipples. "You know what happens when you do that."
"You should get shut-off valves for those things." House leaned down and sucked at her nipple through the shirt, ducking away when she gave him a light thump on the side of the head. "What? It's only milk."
"It's…not your milk."
"Kid needs to learn to share." House rolled his eyes when, as if on cue, a thin wail erupted from the baby monitor. Cuddy let out a resigned groan at the sound and the wet spots on her shirt immediately began to enlarge in response to the hungry cries. Wilson hid a grin against the side of her neck but she felt it. She gave him a light slap on his hip before she pushed herself up and scooted down the bed. Moments later, they could hear Cuddy's voice through the monitor as she gathered the baby from her crib.
"Looks like it's just you and me tonight, Big Guy," House said hopefully.
Wilson gave him a cold look. "Aren't you afraid all my excess poundage might be dangerous?"
House nodded thoughtfully. "Good point. You'd better bottom."
~~**~~
House settled into his favorite easy chair with a contented sigh, propped his feet up on the ottoman, and pulled his reading glasses from his shirt pocket. He had good book and an entire evening of peace and quiet for himself. Or so he thought.
"Daddy." Nathan climbed onto his startled father's lap and slapped a book against his chest. "Read a book.
"Nate, Daddy's going to…." Before House could expound on what daddy was going to do, Cuddy rushed in and plopped Rachel in his lap next to Nathan.
"She's been fed and changed," Cuddy said, leaning over to place a kiss on top of the nine-month-old's head. Rachel ignored her in favor of reaching up to pull House's glasses from his nose. "She just needs her lullaby and you can put her down for the night."
"Whoa." House stared at Cuddy in disbelief over a lapful of kids. "First, I only have two hands."
"So?"
"That's about two hands less than I need for two kids."
"Welcome to my world," Cuddy retorted as she crossed to the other side of the chair and leaned down to give Nathan a kiss before he could squirm away from her.
"Declining the invitation was not the equivalent of offering to babysit," House complained. There were people who could be hired to take care of this sort of thing. And he was not one of those people.
"Actually, it was," Cuddy said. She smoothed a red silk dress over her hips, then reached up to check for her earrings. "You could've come to the fundraiser with me and Wilson but, shockingly, you decided not to. In this house, that means you're the designated babysitter."
"That is so not fair." He tried to reclaim his glasses before Rachel could turn them into a modern art sculpture. The little girl looked up at him with her daddy's dark eyes and smiled, her chubby fist fixed tightly around one lens.
"Since when did fairness enter into any of this?" Wilson asked as he strolled into the living room.
House gave him and his tux a long hard look, then switched his gaze to Cuddy and her abundant cleavage. "You two better not be sneaking off after the party to schtup."
"Hey! Cuddy glared at House and made a cutting motion at her neck. He ignored the warning about his language use.
"It's a fundraiser," Wilson said. "Rubber chicken, dull speeches, and lots of people in uncomfortable shoes."
"So your point is you'll be sneaking off during the party instead of after?"
Wilson paused, his right hand fumbling with his left cufflink. He tilted his head thoughtfully as he considered House's suggestion. "That's not a bad idea…."
"We won't be sneaking anywhere," Cuddy said shortly as she grasped Wilson's wrist and fastened his cufflink. "We'll be home right after it's over and both kids had better be tucked in bed, sound asleep."
She marched out of the room, calling for Wilson to join her. House rolled his eyes. "Someone's been dipping into the testosterone again. Sure you don't want to stay home with us?"
"Let's see--an evening with a beautiful, dominant woman or an evening with you dumping all the dirty work on me…?" Wilson pretended to ponder that choice for a moment, then smiled smugly before turning toward the door.
"Traitor," House called after him. Seconds later he heard the front door close and the sound of the lock turning. He let out a disgruntled sigh as he looked down at the two children occupying his lap space. Then he nudged Nathan. "Turn on the Xbox."
"Mommy doesn't let me play video games after supper."
"Mommy isn't here."
"Are we gonna get in trouble?" Nathan asked as he slid off House's lap and ran over to the console.
"God, I hope so," House said, tucking Rachel more comfortably in the crook of his arm. He figured a little Guitar Hero would work as well as a lullaby to put the little girl to sleep. Even if it didn't, well, she was old enough to start learning some of the rock classics.
"You want to get in trouble?"
"If Daddy gets in trouble for babysitting, then maybe Mommy won't ask Daddy to babysit anymore." House watched as Nathan's finger hovered over the power button on the game console. The little boy was obviously struggling with a monumental decision: play video games or keep Daddy as babysitter. House decided to sweeten the pot…literally.
"Mommy doesn't let you have ice cream before bed either, does she?"
~~**~~
"Sorry I'm late." Wilson hurried into the kindergarten room, trying to neaten his windblown hair with his fingers.
Cuddy looked up from the papers she was studying and motioned to the chair next to her. "Don't worry. We haven't really started yet. Ms. Gomez had to go to the office to take a phone call."
Wilson cautiously squatted onto one of the tiny chairs, which put his knees just under his chin, and reached for the papers Cuddy was holding. "Report card?" he said, giving her a skeptical look. "It's kindergarten: they're taught to color inside the lines and not eat paste. Do they really need report cards?"
"Your tax dollars at work," Cuddy said dryly. She pointed to the bottom of the page. Wilson followed her finger to the teacher comments section.
"Nathan is a happy, well-adjusted child," Wilson read slowly. He turned to Cuddy with an expression of shock, one that matched hers. Neither of them had ever heard the words 'House' and 'well-adjusted' used in the same sentence.
"And this," Cuddy prompted, moving her finger down a couple of lines to where the teacher went on to observe that Nathan easily became bored by some of the classroom activities and that boredom occasionally led to certain less than desirable behaviors.
"Now that sounds like House," Wilson said dryly. Cuddy shot him a warning look even though she knew full well it sounded exactly like House.
"What are we going to do?" she asked.
"I don't know," Wilson said, not nearly as worried as she was. Boys would be boys, and this boy happened to be the son of a borderline sociopath. Certain behaviors were to be expected. He handed the report card back to Cuddy. "The rest looks fine. I really doubt he's taking the first steps toward a life of crime."
"Definitely not."
Wilson and Cuddy glanced up as Ms. Gomez entered the room. She was a young, attractive woman with long, dark hair and long, slender legs, and Wilson was certain all the boys in the class had a huge crush on her. "If you're worried about the boredom issue--don't. Nathan just needs a little reminder from time to time about classroom behavior. The important thing is that when I do remind him, he listens to me."
"I bet he does," Wilson muttered to himself. Cuddy looked like she was seconds away from hitting him but Ms. Gomez stepped forward and offered her hand.
"I apologize for the interruption, but I'm glad you could join us, Mr. House."
"Oh, no, I'm not Dr. House," Wilson said, unfolding his legs so he could stand to shake her hand…even though the view of her legs was better from the tiny chair. "I'm Dr. Wilson."
"Dr. Wilson is my daughter's father," Cuddy said in response to Ms. Gomez's confused expression.
"So…Dr. Wilson is Nathan's stepfather?" Ms. Gomez asked.
"Not exactly," Cuddy said.
"I'm Nathan's second father. But he just calls me Uncle Jimmy."
"Dr. Wilson, Dr. House, and I all live together. Nathan is my son with Dr. House and Dr. Wilson and I have a daughter, Rachel," Cuddy explained. She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. She'd given this explanation often enough now to sound matter of fact while delivering it. She'd also been through it often enough to know that most people didn't quite get it. Ms. Gomez's frozen smile seemed to suggest she was one of the non-getters. "Look at it this way--both kids have a mother and a father in the home. We're a nuclear family."
"The nucleus is just a little larger than normal," Wilson added helpfully. He gave the teacher a winsome smile, and that time, Cuddy did hit him.
~~**~~
"Wilson, no."
Wilson paused as he rummaged through the cupboard over the fridge. "But you said the one above…."
"The other one over the fridge." Cuddy was busy digging through the kitchen junk drawer, pulling out tape and scissors.
"Of course, the other one," Wilson muttered to himself, shifting sideways. His progress was impeded by a growth on his leg: a twenty month old, dark-haired girl who was clutching at his pant leg and making little 'uh uh' noises as she waited for her daddy to pick her up. "Rachel, just give me a minute. Cuddy…?"
Cuddy set her supplies on the kitchen table and took the little girl by the hand. "Rachel, why don't you go to your room and pick out a book for Mommy to read to you?" She gave her a little nudge out the door and turned back to the table where Nathan was sitting patiently, holding a tube of wrapping paper.
"Got it," Wilson announced. He stepped over to the table with a box. He opened it and pulled out a silver menorah. He and Cuddy both stared in dismay at the tarnished silver as he set it on the table.
"I'll take care of polishing. You get House's present wrapped," Wilson said. Cuddy nodded and reached for the wrapping paper.
"Why don't we celebrate Christmas?" Nathan asked, shifting up on his knees so he could assist in wrapping the present.
"We celebrate Hanukkah," Cuddy answered as she set a box containing Nathan's present for House--a new video game--on the paper and cut off enough to cover it. She glanced at Wilson with silent plea for help. He pretended not to notice as he set the menorah on a sheet of old newspaper and picked up a rag to work the silver polish onto its surface.
"But why don't we have Christmas?" Nathan persisted.
"Because…we celebrate Daddy's birthday instead."
"Because Daddy's birthday is more important than Jesus's?"
Cuddy and Wilson exchanged disconcerted looks as they both struggled silently to find the right response to such a potentially inflammatory question.
"Yes," House said from the doorway. Cuddy instantly pulled the wrapping paper over to hide the game.
"That's not true," Wilson told Nathan after giving House a warning look.
"Is, too," House insisted as he ambled over to stand with his hand resting on the back of Nathan's chair. "In fact, my birthday's not only more important, it's actually real."
"Jesus's birthday isn't real?" Nathan asked, his face screwed up into a puzzled look.
"House," Wilson said sharply. "Don't confuse him."
"The truth is going to confuse him?"
"The truth confuses a lot of people," Wilson said.
"Rachel Anne Wilson!" Cuddy's sharp exclamation ended House and Wilson's incipient debate before it could fully develop. They both followed her gaze to the kitchen door, House's eyebrows rising as he took in the sight of Rachel dragging her blankie in one hand and wearing not a stitch of clothing. Nathan glanced at Rachel, then turned back to pulling strips of tape from the dispenser and sticking them on his arm, completely unfazed by the sight of a naked little sister.
"Bath night?" House asked Wilson.
Wilson simply shook his head, stunned. "Rachel…?"
Rachel merely smiled at her father, and then took off running down the hall.
~~**~~
"I want to ride my bike to Kyle's house." Nathan was pushing his bike alongside him which indicated he either expected permission to be granted or he intended to take the bike whether permission was given or not.
House sat on the front steps of their home and gave him a long look before reminding him, "Helmet."
"I don't wanna wear a helmet," Nathan whined, but he flipped the kickstand down and pulled the black and orange helmet from where it was hanging from the handle bars. He jammed it on his head, peering out sullenly through the flattened spikes of his hair. "Kyle doesn't have to wear a helmet."
"Kyle's parents are obviously trying to save money," House said, waving Nathan closer so he could make sure the straps were fastened tightly. "Kid coffins cost less than grown up coffins."
"Dad." Nathan's sigh was a perfect imitation of Wilson's and House couldn't help grinning. He also couldn't help thinking of sticking a lab coat, a pocket protector, and a tie on the kid and teaching him to plant his hands on his hips. It would be best Halloween costume in the neighborhood.
"Thomas says it's weird that you and mom have different bedrooms." Nathan's announcement was matter of fact but it threw House for a loop.
"Who's Thomas and why do we care what he thinks?"
"He's the smartest kid in first grade. And he says it's weird."
"It's not weird," House said, shaking his head. "You have two dads and he's hung up on our sleeping arrangements?"
"Other kids at school have two dads. Or two moms. It's no big deal."
"But you have two dads and a mom," House said.
"Everyone has a mom."
"Well, yeah, but…."
"Why do you and mom have your own bedrooms?" Nathan persisted.
House rubbed his hand over his forehead, looking around for rescue. When the Mounties didn't gallop into the yard, he finally dropped his hand. "Mom has her own bedroom because she wants her own bedroom and giving Mom what she wants makes her happy and making Mom happy makes everyone happy. I get my own bedroom because sometimes I don't sleep well and having my own room means I don't keep Mom and Wilson awake all night."
"How come Uncle Jimmy doesn't get his own bedroom?"
"Because Uncle Jimmy is a pathetic girl who's afraid of sleeping alone." House gave Nathan a wink but Nathan didn't buy it. He merely continued to regard House with the same patient and patently disbelieving expression. "Oh, fine. Uncle Jimmy…well, he never asked for his own bedroom."
Nathan seemed to chew that over for a few minutes, his expression serious. Then he looked up at House again with an intense stare. "Who do you love most?"
"Mom or Wilson?"
"Me or Rachel." Nathan watched, his eyes unblinking as he waited for House's response. House in turn struggled to not make a dismissive or sarcastic reply. Struggled, in fact, to avoid making any response at all.
"Why do I have to love one of you more?" House rubbed at his forehead again, nervous, as Nathan's expression twisted into one of confusion. House gave an impatient grunt as the uncomfortable silence dragged on. "Who do you love more--me or Mommy?"
"That's different."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
"Why?" House asked.
"…because?" Nathan said hesitantly.
"Come back when you've got a good reason," House said. "Then we'll discuss it."
Nathan studied him a moment longer, chewing at his lower lip as he considered the proposal. Then he shrugged and mounted his bike.
"So how long do you figure before he comes back with a reason?" Wilson asked, stepping out of the front door behind House.
"How long have you been eavesdropping?" House snapped, looking up over his shoulder.
"Long enough." Wilson settled on the step next to House and watched as Nathan rode down the sidewalk toward Kyle's house, legs pumping furiously. "So…?"
"Oh, don't," House grumbled. He shoved up to his feet almost angrily and reached for the door. "Don't even go there."
~~**~~
"Did you have to invite the Mom Mob?" House asked in a harsh whisper. He had Cuddy pinned in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, his arm braced against the jamb to prevent her from fleeing.
"It's Rachel's birthday. Why wouldn't I invite her grandparents?"
"Her grandparents, fine…I guess. But did you have to invite my mom?"
"Nathan adores your mother," Cuddy said.
On one side of the door, in the kitchen, Blythe and Nathan were putting the finishing touches on the cake Wilson had baked earlier in the day. On the other side, in the living room, Miriam Wilson and Carol Cuddy were spoiling their granddaughter with attention. Jacob Wilson was seated in House's chair in the corner, his eyes closed and faint snores rumbling from his open mouth. He, at least, had found an escape from the festivities.
John House had escaped, too, in a way. He'd died several years earlier and even Cuddy wasn't so doggedly family oriented she'd invite a dead man. Her own father hadn't made the trip either. Tom Cuddy had end-stage Parkinson's. Traveling around the house was difficult enough for him let alone travelling half way across the country. He'd elected to stay home and Cuddy's sister was spending the weekend with him so Grandma Cuddy could visit. Next time he saw Cuddy's sister, House was really going to have to thank her for that.
"He might, but I don't."
"You don't hate your mother," Cuddy said, exasperated.
"I should. Every well adjusted boy hates his mother."
"Well, no one's ever said you were well adjusted." Cuddy ducked under House's arm and entered the kitchen. Blythe glanced up with a smile. House returned the smile uneasily, suddenly certain she'd overheard his conversation.
"Ice cream's here," Wilson announced, entering the kitchen from the garage.
"About time," House said.
"I wouldn't have had to go get more ice cream if you hadn't eaten the ice cream I'd already bought," Wilson said in a crisp rebuke. His announcement had drawn the other two grandmothers to the room…along with one other person.
"Oh, my!" Carol Cuddy said, pressing her hand to her chest. Wilson looked over and cringed when he saw Rachel dancing into the kitchen, stark naked.
Cuddy followed his gaze and groaned. She glanced apprehensively at all the grandmothers as she tried to grab her daughter. Rachel, as always, considered it a game and she dived under the table. Cuddy threw her hands up as Wilson tried to head Rachel off at the other end of the table. "I don't know what's gotten into her. She started doing this a couple of months ago and we can't get her to stop."
"Don't worry, Honey," Carol said, laughing now that she'd gotten over the initial surprise. "Lots of toddlers go through a clothing optional stage."
"Greg used to do the same thing," Blythe said matter-of-factly. House looked at her in horror as the rest of the adults all became acutely interested in what Blythe had to say. She continued on, either ignorant of her son's frantic head shaking or, possibly, not caring. "I'd get him dressed in the morning--he was so adorable-- and the moment I turned my back on him, he'd be running through the yard, his little dingle waving in the breeze."
"Mom," House said, his voice nearly cracking in embarrassment. A couple of snorting noises escaped Cuddy despite the hand she'd pressed firmly over her mouth. She gave up after a moment and let out a loud, braying laugh. Wilson ducked his head but peeked up at House, a thoroughly amused expression on his face.
"I'm sorry, dear," Blythe said, smiling. "But it's true: you were a child nudist."
~~**~~
Cameron entered the doctors' lounge, heaving a sigh when she saw House planted in front of the tv, remote firmly in hand. She'd hoped to relax for a few minutes while the E.R. was slow. Under the circumstances, it was now a faint hope.
"Shhh," he said, waving his hand at her before she could say a word. "They're just about to reveal who the father of Tiffany's Siamese triplets is."
"As long as I live, I'll never understand how you can watch this stuff," she said, sinking into the chair next to him and drawing her legs up. She shook her head in disbelief at the ridiculous scene playing out on the plasma screen and pulled a protein bar from her pocket.
"Please, it's pure crack. And everyone knows how addictive that is." House looked over his shoulder, annoyed when the lounge door opened again and admitted another distraction.
"House…. Oh, hey, Cameron," Wilson added when he noticed her sitting off to the side. She waved her half-eaten bar at him and he immediately turned his attention back to House. "I've been thinking, and I think we need to celebrate our anniversary this year, all three of us."
House looked up at him, one eye screwed shut as he tried to make sense of Wilson's suggestion. "We don't have an anniversary."
"Yes, we do."
"Pretty sure we don't," House said, turning his attention back to the television. "We're not married so it's not a wedding anniversary. My first date with Cuddy was a long time before my first date with you. And I'm pretty sure our first date wasn't on the same date as mine and Cuddy's first date so it can't be that kind of anniversary."
"The day you all moved in together," Cameron guessed. Wilson dramatically flung his hand at her like some latter day Bert Parks introducing a new Miss America. House half expected a shower of confetti to fall from the ceiling.
"Well, that's a stupid anniversary," House said.
"It's…an excuse to celebrate," Wilson said. "What do you care?"
"I don't like anniversaries. I don't like dressing up and pretending to be romantic just because of some arbitrary date on a calendar."
"Maybe you and Cuddy should celebrate alone," Cameron suggested to Wilson. "House can babysit."
He gave her a hard look and sniffed. "I'm not allowed to babysit anymore."
"What?" Wilson's eyes widened. "Since when?"
"Since I took the kids out for a ride on the bike last time."
"You didn't," Cameron gasped.
"He didn't," Wilson said dismissively. "And even if you had, Cuddy never said you couldn't babysit. That would actually be a reward and she's not going to do that."
"And that's the kind of evil, manipulative, child-endangering woman you want me to dress up for?"
"I can babysit," Cameron offered before Wilson could respond.
"Not a chance," House said. "You'll only use the opportunity to pump the little rugrats for all our deep, dirty secrets."
"Only your deep, dirty secrets," Cameron said.
House frowned and made a shooing motion with the remote. "Don't you have a dead guy to wed or bed?"
"Chase isn't dead."
"I can fix that for you," House offered with an obnoxious wink. "I know people."
Cameron pushed up from the chair, gracing House with her most disdainful look, and nodded to Wilson as she passed by him. "Call me if you need me."
"Thanks." Wilson nodded to her, then focused his attention on House again. "Come on, when's the last time the three of us got to go out? Without kids?"
"So we get dressed up, go out for a ridiculously expensive dinner, then come home and have to deal with the kids and being too tired and end up falling into bed, nookie-less like always."
"So…." Wilson thought that over for a moment. "We have my mom come stay with the kids and we go away. Just for a night. Just us."
House groaned. "Dressing up isn't bad enough? Now you want me to pack?"
"Atlantic City." Wilson nodded to himself, already working out the logistics in his mind. "A nice dinner, a little gambling, maybe a show…. I'll make the reservations."
"I hate you," House called after Wilson he headed for the door.
~~**~~
"As anniversaries go, this one sucks," House said. He was lying on his back, his pillow folded in half behind his head so he could see the television. Next to his feet, Nathan was sitting cross-legged on the bed. His hand was deep in the bowl of popcorn resting on House's legs but he'd forgotten all about it. He was completely under the spell of the movie, his face illuminated by flickers of light coming from the TV screen.
On the other side of the bed, Wilson was sitting back against the headboard, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. "There was no way Cuddy was going to leave Rachel."
In the middle of the bed, between House and Wilson, Cuddy was lying on her side, asleep. Curled up to her chest with her head tucked under her mother's, Rachel was also sound asleep, exhausted by a fall from the jungle gym at pre-school and a trip to the emergency room. A neat row of small stitches was barely visible just under her swollen chin.
"It's not like she lost a limb," House said grumpily. "Won't even be much of a scar."
"You didn't even want to celebrate our anniversary," Wilson pointed out in a faint tone of exasperation.
"Because it's not a real anniversary."
"Dad," Nathan said in a loud whisper. "Shush."
"Where do you get off shushing me?" House asked.
"I'm trying to watch the movie. You're just whining."
"I don't whine," House argued.
"You do nothing but whine," Cuddy said, her voice groggy. House gave her a dirty look, then raised his eyes to Wilson for a second opinion.
"You whine a lot," Wilson said, flatly denying House's appeal for another verdict. He relented after a moment and turned his head to look at House. "The movie will be over in fifteen minutes. After that we can put the kids to bed and…."
"And Cuddy's already passed out and you'll spend half an hour with your obsessive bedtime routine before claiming you have an early meeting and need your beauty sleep."
"So it's a typical night."
"But it wasn't supposed to be a typical night," House said. "I was ready and perfectly medicated for a night of gambling and schtupping."
"Schtupping's a bad word," Nathan announced. House's eyes grew wide and Wilson pushed his glasses up his nose as he stared at the boy. "That's what Grandma Wilson said."
"You asked Grandma what schtupping means?" Wilson asked fearfully.
"Last time we stayed with Grandma and Grandpa Wilson, she asked where you were and I said Daddy said you were schtupping and Grandma said it was a bad word," Nathan said.
Wilson went into a full body cringe, his glare at House promising retribution. House glanced warily at Cuddy when she made a sleepy grunt. "You're going to pay for that." She opened her eyes just enough to glare up at House. "How many times have I told you not to use Yiddish around a kid who has access to Jewish grandparents?"
"I thought we agreed we'd be open with the kids about s-e-x."
"About s-e-x in general. Not about our s-e-x in particular."
"I can spell, you know." Nathan was staring at House over his shoulder. Unable to think of a suitable reply--that was to say a reply that wouldn't get him in deeper trouble--House simply grabbed the remote and turned off the television. Nathan's jaw dropped and he stared at his father in outrage.
House stared back. "Bedtime."
"Can I sleep in here? Everyone else is."
"Might as well let him," Wilson said. House groaned, but lifted up the sheets. Nathan scrambled up the bed and slid in between Rachel and House.
"This is getting way too Little House on the Princeton Prairie," House grumbled as Nathan snuggled in under the covers next to him.
"Yes, it's exactly like that…except I don't think Ma and Pa Ingalls were into threesomes," Wilson said as he turned off the bedside lamp and shifted down on the bed.
"You obviously haven't seen the director's cut."
"Shut up, both of you," Cuddy muttered. Wilson settled on his side at Cuddy's back, his arm draped over her waist as his fingers rested lightly on Rachel's back. House considered saying something just so Cuddy wouldn't have the last word but in the end, he simply unfolded the pillow behind his head and scooted down until he was lying on his back. For a moment the room was silent but for the small rustling sounds of five people settling in for the night.
Then Nathan's voice broke the peace. "Daddy, what's a threesome?"