Expect the Unexpected
Doesn't expecting the unexpected make the unexpected the expected?
Disclaimer: Don't own anything but errors.
AN: Just a random thought that just had to be put on paper. Hooray for Huddy.
Lisa Cuddy swayed in time to the jazz standard by piano as she fixed supper. Pong! Pong! Wrong notes followed by giggles interrupting the moment. Lisa laughed and after checking to make sure her food wouldn't erupt while she investigated she headed for the living room.
Gregory House sat at the baby grand tapping out chopsticks with the 'help' of Matthew. After a year of fertility treatments and lots of planned unprotected sex Matthew Hippocrates House – Cuddy was born. Lisa smiled and leaned against the door jam tween kitchen and concert. Becoming a mother was everything and nothing like she hoped it would be. It was gloriously wonderful in every way, just full of surprises.
She had expected House to figure it out, even anticipated some of his help. He could get some touches and skin shots of the ass he loves to talk about. She could see him helping her pick a donor, he enjoyed meddling. There was even a tiny part of her that could see him offering himself as a donor. His body and mind for sex. He'd given her his body and swim team. She didn't expect his refusal of 'sex', he wanted love making. He wanted to be the baby's father, not just a donor. He did give her his body and swimmers but they came with his mind, heart, and soul. He was her partner, in and out of bed.
She had expected him to want to be involved with the pregnancy and the baby. He could mock her and warp the child. She expected him to be at the birth, a great way to aggravate and annoy her; he could be in the way during delivery. She had expected him not to marry her. He wasn't the bridegroom type. Neither were religious, add to that her Jewish background and his Protestant past would they get a pastor or a rabbi? She hadn't expected him to get protective, he loved touching and talking to her stomach. He helped pick out baby names, and they were nice ones not 'spawn', 'hellion', 'Dumbass', or 'shithead'. They were Matthew and Jacob for boys. Elizabeth and Lilly for girls. He was there at the birth, holding her hand, taking her insults; he did what the other doctors said and made no crass comments. He held the baby and cried… she didn't expect that at all.
He didn't marry her, but he did hobble to his good knee and ask her to be his partner – life partner. He bought them a house. House bought a house. He made her a home, made them a home, with a backyard and everything else. It was a home. He didn't marry her, but they bought and exchanged rings. They didn't wear them on their left ring fingers, no left middle. The way they argued they need something to look at for all the times they flip the bird. She didn't expect to not want a wedding, she had a girly – girl streak, at five she planned her first wedding. Now she was a partner, not a wife. But what was a wife, a state of mind brought by a wedding. What was a wedding anyway? A prehistoric ritual where everybody looses their identity. She was content without a big ceremony. They had a party like a wedding would draw. They bought rings and committed to one another, like a wedding. As for a wedding dress, he had gotten her tickets to La Boheme; they dressed up formal and went out to eat at a fancy restaurant. She felt beautiful, like a bride should and she was in a dress she could war again. So they didn't get married.
She had expected House to attend every doctor's appointment and the birth. She had literally expected it, and told him that. Pregnancy and labor were scary, she had supposed that was why you were supposed to be married and pregnant, someone had to be there with you. He did remarkably well; it made her cry, only partly due to the hormones. Crying she expected to do a lot of. The only crying she expected him to do was from laughter. And he did, when she started to show his handy work he took to calling her Chuddy – Chubby Cuddy. He was proud of himself for that play on words. He cried laughing when one hormonal night in her eighth month she convinced herself he would leave her for the non – Chuddy Cameron. He found it to be the craziest funniest idea on the planet, but he did stop calling her Chuddy. So she expected a lot of crying for one reason or another. She didn't expect the crying to be from him when Matthew was born, it wasn't even to mourn his loss of non – daddy status. It was from relief every thing was fine. It was from exhaustion and joy. Holding newly born House – Cuddy Jr. He had cried like the thing in his arms with half his DNA. She thought he'd only want maternity leave to get out of clinic hours, but he took it to help her. He'd check all late night crying, she'd do the early morning stuff.
She had expected him to not call his parents, maybe when college graduation rolled around his parents might get a call. Instead at the first sonogram the soon to be grandparents were informed of their status. Grandma House became a great help with things, Greg the hardass still could be guilted by his mother.
She had expected some gossip around the hospital, she had just given birth. And the father was a man she did nothing but argue with, bitching at each other was their lover's talk. She hadn't expected Greg's response; he prowled around the baby room charging admission to see his kid, cutting down on gawkers. He wanted to show the kid off like a proud papa, not like a zoo keeper. Even today he'd walk (limp) the halls with Matthew in his arms. House was proud of his handy work, very 'look what I did'.
Matthew could talk now and Greg took delight in teaching him words, not all of them bad. Lullabies by The Doors and Led Zeppelin, but Baby Einstein was on the shelf next to The Godfather.
"Papa." Greg had been so proud of his son's first words.
"Yes Munchkin?" she should've know he'd be a softy for babies, or at least his baby.
"Mommy." So Matt knew about his audience. House turned.
She expected him to look at her, but didn't expect his love. Every time she saw it, it reminded her speechless. Love. Sigh.
"Grub ready?" he asked,
"Rub!" Matt chimed. Lisa was snapped out of her thoughts.
"Just about. What are you playing?" She moved and sat next to father and son on the bench.
"Chopin's Waltz in A flat major. He's doing better than you did learning it." Greg said before kissing away her retort. Matthew followed Daddy's fingers doing surprisingly well for his age.
"He is yours." She said. Pong wrong note.
"And yours." He replied.
Le Fin