A/N: This story takes place in the same universe as Paternity, one of my other House stories. House and Cuddy have been together since season 7's 'Now What?'and 'Bombshells' never happened.

Additionally, thank you so very much to everyone who has read and reviewed my House stories so far! I realize I haven't responded to many of you, but I just want to say that your interest and support are greatly appreciated and are a big reason I've begun to write again. Thank you!

They were a soft shade of blue - cornflower, she often thought - yet sharp and precise. Penetrating. She'd know those eyes anywhere, and recognized them instantly. Identifying the individual to whom they belonged, however, took a few extra moments.

House hadn't told her his mother was visiting.

"Oh, Cuddy, dear!"

Cuddy had unknowingly been standing at the halfway point between Blythe and Gregory House, and when House called for her from the elevator, she made brief eye contact with the older woman before they both turned towards him.

"House.."

"Hello, Greg!"

House's confused expression made Cuddy feel slightly better about being caught off guard.

The two Houses met Cuddy near the lobby desk, effectively dismissing everyone else who'd been unnecessarily lingering nearby; most staff members, no matter how long they'd worked at PPTH, knew not to involve themselves in anything that even resembled potential House/Cuddy drama.

"Well, this is exciting." House said neutrally after bending forward to kiss her cheek.

"Don't lie, Greg." Blythe said with a genuine smile. "I'm visiting Beth and Katie in the city this weekend - it's been a year since your Aunt Sarah passed, you know - and I thought I'd take advantage of my extended layover and pay my dearest son a visit."

"No, you thought you'd make sure you had a nice, long layover near Princeton so you could check in on your only son," House responded resignedly. "Nicely done."

Blythe was still smiling when she shifted her attention to Cuddy, who, until that point, had been silently observing the interaction between mother and son.

"You're Dr. Cuddy. I remember you," Blythe said confidently. "You were his doctor, and you were his boss."

"Call me Lisa," Cuddy said with a smile she reserved for the most difficult of donors. "I'm still his boss."

"In more than one way, right, Boss?" House chided, his voice conspiratorially low and single eyebrow arched. Lisa couldn't stop the red flush from ascending her neck and coloring her cheeks.

"Is that supposed to shock me, Greg?" Blythe questioned, seemingly unfazed.

House's smirk fell, and he swore under his breath, "Damn you, Wilson…"

"For a man with such a retentive memory, you sure tend to forget that I do, in fact, have a friendship with James," Blythe commented. "He suggested months ago that you were 'with someone,' and after a little poking and prodding, I had it all figured out."

Fair enough, Cuddy thought, and even though she thought Wilson and Blythe's relationship was unconventional, she wasn't sure if anything that involving House could be conventional.

"Anyway," Blythe went on, "he also mentioned that there's another lady in your life, and I think I'd like to meet her."

Cuddy's gaze traveled from one set of cornflower blue eyes to another. When House nodded his agreement, her gaze went back to the first set, and she smiled at Blythe. "How long is your layover?"

Blythe was enamored by the preschooler the moment she'd seen her: the thick, dark hair; the big eyes and bigger smile; the blue-and-purple striped dress with coordinating blue leggings and bright pink socks. She was darling.

The three adults had driven back to House and Cuddy's home in Cuddy's car. Marina, who had been at home with Rachel since picking her up from preschool, was out the door nearly as quickly as the nurses and orderlies had left the front desk earlier that afternoon. Blythe and Rachel exchanged introductions while House made dinner.

"And how old are you, Rachel?" Blythe asked the little girl who sat on the barstool next to her own.

"I'm….five!" Rachel said, extending her left hand proudly.

"Rachel…" Cuddy warned. She sat on the opposite side of her daughter.

Rachel huffed at her mother. "I'm four, but I'll be five very soon. My birthday's during Hanukkah this year, but before Christmas. Sometime Christmas and Hanukkah are the same time, and one time Hanukkah and Thanksgiving were at the same time, but my birthday's never the same as Christmas or Thanksgiving."

"And when is your birthday?"

"December 5th! That means this year is my golden birthday. That's because I'm gonna be five on the 5th, and those are the same number. Mommy's golden birthday was when she was 28, and House's was when he was eleven."

Blythe couldn't keep the smile from her face as she listened to the little girl prattle on, and Cuddy couldn't help but smile as she watched the interaction between her daughter and the older woman. Blythe was naturally charming, exemplifying the social skills House might have had a few things in his life gone differently. Blythe's conversation with Rachel also highlighted for Cuddy the similarities between her daughter and House. Cuddy's own mother often tired of Rachel's rampant mind and the endless stream-of-consciousness monologues that composed much of her vocalization, but Blythe showed no signs of fatigue. If anything, she was becoming more interested as the little girl went on. All at once, Cuddy felt as if she'd been transported back a few decades and was watching Blythe interact with her own son.

The conversation continued until House declared dinner was ready. Blythe watched her son extract a miniature pink cup, bright yellow fork, and triangular green plate from a low, gliding drawer.

"You want spaghetti, Kid?" He looked at Rachel, who stood to his left.

"Yes, please. And sauce, but no-"

"-no meat." House finished for her, scooping a serving of noodles onto the plate and pouring a spoonful of red sauce on top. "You act like I don't know these things."

Rachel grinned, took the plate, and carried it to the table with great care, clutching it with both small hands.

Meanwhile, House made his own plate - with meat, Blythe noted - and brought it to the dining room table. Before taking his seat at the head chair, he extracted the yellow utensils from his back pocket and handed them to Rachel. By the time the two of them had settled in their seats, both Blythe and Cuddy had joined them, their own plates, three glasses of wine, and Rachel's pink cup in hand.

"Goodness, she's a livewire, isn't she?" Blythe said when Lisa rejoined her in the living room after leaving Rachel and House to enjoy one more bedtime story before she finally went bed. "But so very sweet."

Lisa nodded, sitting on the couch adjacent to Blythe's chair. "She certainly can be," she agreed.

"She reminds me a lot of Greg as a young boy," Blythe admitted. Cuddy wasn't blind to the faraway look in her eyes or the nostalgic smile gracing her mouth. "He was sweet, you know, when he was young. And he's always been a handful."

"I can certainly imagine," Cuddy agreed gently. "He's still sweet, sometimes. With Rachel especially. He treats her like a person, not just a child. She is a child, I know, but she's…well, she's…." Cuddy trailed off, trying to find the right words to describe her daughter. Blythe interjected.

"She's very intelligent, very sharp, but with the self-awareness of a typical preschooler."

Cuddy nodded. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard a better explanation of her daughter's seemingly-high intelligence yet less-than-remarkable social skills. "Yes, exactly. And I love that about her - God, do I love it. But I've realized that not everyone feels the same way. Her preschool teacher last year insisted she was 'bossy' and 'prone to outbursts that disrupted the class,' She was punished accordingly, and we had to have a meeting about all the time-outs she'd been given," Cuddy recalled, shaking her head.

Blythe nodded understandingly, "She was intimidated by Rachel's intelligence and annoyed by her energy."

"I think so. I admit, sometimes even I lose my patience with the incessant questions or the constant chatter. It can be exhausting. But House - Greg never loses his patience with her. He answers every question she asks, or if he doesn't know the answer, he'll pull out his phone or iPad and they'll look it up. He engages in her conversation, even if they have little substantive value, because he always finds value in what she says. He values her, and it's…

"It's very sweet, isn't it?" Blythe helped.

Cuddy hadn't realized her eyes had been watering until she tasted a single, salty drop on her lip. She wiped the track of dampness away with a smile and nod; the joy that her daughter and boyfriend brought her, both separately and together, sparked emotions she wasn't always sure she had. Talking about that joy with someone who seemed to know exactly what she meant, well, that was all it took for those emotions to release themselves.

"I think my son and your daughter are both very, very lucky to have you, Lisa," Blythe said. "Very lucky indeed."

Cuddy nodded, agreeing, but added, "I'm lucky to have them."

Blythe spent the night in the guestroom, and Greg drove her to the airport early the next morning so she could continue on to see her nieces in Boston. He pulled into the departure lane and parked the car. By the time he was upright and on the sidewalk, his mother had already pulled her small suitcase from the backseat and was wrapping her wool coat more tightly around her delicate frame.

"It was so nice to see you, Greg," Blythe said, her hand cupping her son's scruffy cheek.

Greg agreed, and said as much. Blythe didn't reprimand him for lying because she knew he, too, had enjoyed her short visit. "Just call next time, okay? And call me, not my Adoptive Jewish Helicopter Mother."

Blythe chuckled at the image and nodded in agreement. After a moment, she said, "Lisa's a wonderful woman, Greg, and Rachel is a wonderful little girl."

He nodded affirmatively, "They are."

"They make you happy."

"They do."

Blythe's face warmed.

"I love you, Gregory." Blythe said, opening her arms for a hug.

"You too, Mom." He responded before kissing her cheek. After, he quietly added, "Thank you."

Blythe's smile lasted the rest of the day and into the evening. Her son was happy. What more could a mother want?