Disclaimer: Actually, I am David Shore. I'm also currently in a coma, and I'm flying above Mars in my rainbow spaceship.
It was late. Cuddy was a little drunk. She'd never, never meant to have so much to drink, but it just happened like that. There was no one to stop her…and she didn't really know what she was doing. Just the motions, not really seeing what was happening.
But no matter what Cuddy said to herself, it couldn't justify going home with House.
She'd gotten on the back of his motorcycle and ridden home with him. And they'd slept together. But it was just another innocent night. All she did was have some fun. Well, it was only fun until she took the test. She was positive.
Pregnant.
Ahhh!
Why on earth had she done something so stupid? Had sex with her employee? Gotten pregnant with HIS child? How in the world was she going to pull this off? Of course she wanted the baby. She just didn't want his baby. Didn't want him to know.
Oh, wait. She'd have to TELL him. How exactly does one tell her employee that she's pregnant, with his kid? How would she tell him…tell House?
So they'd talked about it. He was in shock. Retorted something sarcastic, but it was substantially less witty than usual.
But he got it.
Oddly.
Like he'd almost expected it.
They were in this together now. But she still had NO feelings for him. None at all. That's what Cuddy kept telling herself.
They'd made a deal. No one would no anything, not about them. She'd tell Wilson that the fertility meds worked; that she was finally pregnant. On her own, of course. No one would need to know anything else. And House, obviously, would be as big a bastard as ever.
But, wait. She needed someone who would help her, someone who'd be ready if the baby came early. She needed to tell someone the truth.
Brenda. She'd tell Brenda.
Nurses retreated from the room happily; they'd just had another successful birth. Plus, the kid was cute to boot. Apparently, going on the instructions of Brenda, they had to keep their mouths shut about who the was father. Funny. It didn't matter, anyway—everyone was too rushed to notice the mysterious 'father,' who presumably hid in the corner the whole time. Men usually did. Wimps.
House stood by his not-girlfriend's bedside, anxiously peering over her dark curls and into her eyes.
They were open, relaxed.
Tired.
"I saw him," whispered Cuddy. House looked on silently. "He looks just like you."
House examined his boss's face, the way her eyes shimmered, how her lips formed a smile even when she didn't try. She was pretty. He slowly stuck his hands into his pockets, unnoticeably withdrawing a mystery object.
"Must be gorgeous." House commented dryly. He where to find words that would be comforting, words that would instill pride and encouragement. But he didn't have access to Cameron at the moment.
So House took matter into his own hands, his own path.
House slipped the object previously resting in his hand onto Cuddy's lap.
It was a ring.
He whispered softly. "I do."