Pairing: Dr. Gregory House/Dr. Lisa Cuddy
Fandom: House, M.D.
Theme: 02. News; Letter
Disclaimer: I own nothing, almost literally. Most importantly, I don’t own House.
Rating: Completely PG.
Author’s Notes: Originally written for girlie_girl_23 for the bubbleficathon. Betaed by the lovely (seriously, you should see her picture) sheikah.
“Heat’s bad for the baby.”
Cuddy glared at House. “You’re trespassing. And I’m not pregnant.”
“Really? Because that weight gain’s in all the right places.” House lounged back against the wall of her house.
In spite of herself, Cuddy glanced down. “What weight gain is that? The one you should appreciate in my breasts?”
“Sure, Thelma and Louise—”
“You named my breasts?”
“—are benefiting. So’s your ass.”
And she was back to the glaring. Kind of difficult to do more when she was in a bikini and a supposedly-relaxing hot tub, but she did her best. Not like it would work on him even if she wasn’t mostly naked, anyway. “You know, estrogen makes those changes happen. Remember estrogen? What you were injecting into my ass?”
“And it apparently worked. The whole baby thing.” He had no right to sound so smug when he was completely wrong.
“Fine.” Cuddy climbed up out of the tub, wrapping her towel around herself before he could ogle her much. “You’re convinced I’m pregnant? Come on.”
She caught his frown, but he followed her—funny how he’d actually listen when they weren’t at work—until she stopped at her bag in the living room. It took her a moment to find, but once she had, she handed him a lab printout, his fingers barely grazing the back of her hand. “Dated today.” She pursed her lips, watching him, and caught the moment when he read the hCG result.
“I’m sorry.” Funny, in all twenty-plus years she’d known him, she’d never seen him genuinely apologetic. Then he gave her the smirk she’d come to expect. “Just means you’ll have to try harder. You know—”
She snatched the paper back before he could continue. “If personality’s genetic, I sure don’t want my kid to have sarcastic bastard genes. Out.”
“In, out, make up your mind unless you’re making it fun.” Typical. “Why, you expecting someone?”
“In the form of James Joyce. Bye now.”
She had to shepherd him to the door, blocking him when he tried to detour into the kitchen. It was only when he was gone that she realized at least she’d had someone to fill the emptiness for a few minutes.