Author's Note: So I have good news and bad news: The bad news, yeah, this the last chapter of my baby fic, at least as part of the Wedding, Honeymoon, Baby trilogy. But the good news is I'm more than happy to write a new story that picks up from here, I just need your help. To be honest, I only wrote this baby fic to satisfy all my readers who wanted one. It's not something that appeals to me quite as much personally (I like all the drama/tension/sexiness of the House and Cuddy relationship...bbs tend to take away from that.)

Soooo tell me what you want to see next: Charlie as a toddler? In elementary school? As a grouchy, House-like teenager? Any particular plotline with Rachel you want to see? I'm willing to entertain anything. . . although I have a few other story ideas I might want to get to first. Anyway, leave me your suggestions in the comments, or via DM. And as always thanks for reading and commenting. I can say with 100 percent certainty I would have stopped writing these suckers months ago were it not for your support.

"What are you doing?" Cuddy murmured.

It was past midnight. House was hovering over Charlie's bassinet, which they had temporarily placed in the master bedroom.

"Just watching him sleep," House whispered. "I'm allowed to watch my son sleep, aren't I?"

"House, he's breathing."

"I didn't say I was checking to see if he was breathing. I said I was watching him sleep."

"I'd also like to be asleep," she said, patting the bed next to her. "Sleep is a rare and precious commodity right now. We need to savor it—while we can."

House took one last look at Charlie—he was curled up into a little ball, with his tiny butt sticking up in the air and his hands tucked under his head—and climbed back into bed.

"He is. . .Breathing, that is," House said. "In case you were wondering."

"I was. Thank you."

She gave House a kiss, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

#####

The next morning, they were all sitting around the breakfast table—Rachel was dunking bite-sized pieces of French toast into syrup, House was drinking coffee, and Cuddy was breastfeeding Charlie.

"You can only have temporary custody of those, pal," House said to Charlie. "They're mine."

Cuddy laughed.

"We need to plan Charlie's bris," she said.

House had just taken a swig of coffee. He gave a near spit-take.

"I'm sorry. His what?"

"His bris—it's a Jewish circumcision ritual."

"I know what a bris is," House said.

"I know you know," Cuddy said.

"Surely you realize that no son of mine is going to have a bris."

"Why House?" She lowered her voice, not that Rachel was paying attention—she was singing the Elmo theme song to Dolly. "You're circumcised."

"And it was the single most traumatic day of my life."

Cuddy snorted.

"House, you were, like 2 days old when it happened."

"And yet I still have nightmares about it."

"Cut it out, House."

"That's what I'm trying to avoid," he said.

Cuddy shot him a look.

"We both know there's absolutely no medical reason for my son to be mutilated like that," House said.

"There are conflicting studies."

"I like his penis just fine as it is," House said.

"What's a penis?" Rachel said.

So she had been paying attention.

"Male sex organ," House answered, before Cuddy could intervene.

"Sweetie, are you done with your French toast?" Cuddy said quickly. Without waiting for an answer, she unclasped Charlie from her breast—he was wearing a blue-and-white-striped terrycloth onesie—and handed him to House, who put the little guy over his shoulder and began burping him. Then she began clearing Rachel's plate and emptying what was left into the garbage disposal.

"I guess you're done," House said to Rachel.

Rachel gave him a "what are gonna do?" type smile.

"Kiddo, can you go play in your room for a while?" Cuddy said. "House and I need to have a grown-up discussion."

"Uh oh," House said. "I'm in trouble."

"Can Charlie come with me?" Rachel asked.

"Soon baby. Not yet. He's still too little."

Rachel gave a dramatic sigh and climbed out of her chair. But before she headed to her room, she looked at House quizzically.

"Why are you hitting his back?" she asked.

"I'm burping him," House said. "After babies eat, they need to be burped, to get the air out of their GI tracts."

"Oh," Rachel said sagely, even though she had no clue what he was talking about.

"You wanna try?" House said. He lowered baby Charlie so Rachel could reach him. "Pat his back. Gently, but not too gently."

Rachel patted on her baby brother's back. Eventually, he let out a tiny little burp.

Rachel giggled

"I heard it!" she said. "It was cute!"

"Excellent work," House said. "You can be our DB—our Designated Burper."

Rachel smiled proudly.

"Rach. . . " Cuddy said.

"Okay," Rachel said. And she trudged into her room.

"A bris would mean a lot to my family," Cuddy continued.

"You're family isn't religious," House said.

"These sorts of ceremonies are meaningful," Cuddy said.

"You know the old expression about how there are no atheists in a fox hole?" House said. "With the Cuddy women, there are no atheists around newborns."

"I well remember your objection to Rachel's simchat bat," Cuddy said.

"As hypocritical today as it was then."

"And yet you missed a milestone in her life," Cuddy said. "That's gotta hurt a little."

House looked down at the table. Actually, missing Rachel's simchat bat was one of the biggest regrets of his life—for several reasons.

"I'll have plenty of time to make it up to her," he said, defensively. "I promise to be there when she's Umbrella Number One in the Princeton Kindergarten production of Mary Poppins."

"House, remember on our honeymoon when you said that our relationship was going to be three for me and one for you?"

"Yes," he said, knowing where this was going.

"This is one of the three for me. He's going to be circumcised anyway—

"I never . . ."

"He's going to be circumcised anyway. We may as well do it at home with friends and family and a nice breakfast buffet."

House frowned.

"Fine," he said.

"Besides, the yarmulke will cover your bald spot," she said.

"Nice, Cuddy."

######

Six days later there was, indeed, a spread of bagels, cream cheese and lox in the living room. Wilson was there, along with House's team. The rest of the guests were mostly Cuddy's friends and family—youngish urban parents, elderly Jewish couples who dressed up for the occasion, a few children, who raced through the house, between the legs of the grownups, much to Rachel's delight.

The mohel was there, too, with his ominous bag of equipment.

House looked at it, felt his mouth go dry.

"I'm so glad you've finally come to embrace the significance of religious ritual," Arlene said to House.

"Actually I. . ."

Cuddy swooped in and put her arm around him.

"House insisted on this bris," she said, squeezing him a bit.

House looked at her. Looked at Arlene.

"I couldn't imagine cutting off the tip of my son's penis in the company of anyone else," he said.

Arlene smiled fakely at him.

Moments later, House bumped into Taub, who was also wearing a yarmulke.

"Dr Chouse, I presume," Taub cracked, pronouncing the "ch" as you would in "Chanukah."

"Have you been practicing that all day?" House said.

"Maybe," Taub said. He shrugged and walked away.

Wilson was now standing next to House. He handed him a mimosa.

"How you holding up?" he asked.

"Just dandy," House said, taking the drink. "Nothing like a primitive barbaric ritual to celebrate the joy of a new birth."

"Be strong, my gentile friend," Wilson said.

The mohel had made his way to the front of the room and was shushing the crowd. He began to explain the procedure.

"The baby will be numbed and feel virtually no pain," he said.

"Yeah, right," House muttered under his breath.

Cuddy brought Charlie up to the mohel, who began chanting in Hebrew.

Then he lay Charlie on a big velvet blanket, applied the topical anesthetic and took out his shiny metal clamps.

House took a very deep breath, braced himself for impact.

The mohel began to peel away at the foreskin.

Charlie started crying instantly.

And then there was a loud thud and the room went black.

#####

Three hours later, the crowd had all dispersed and it was just Rachel, House, and Cuddy. Charlie, perhaps still slightly drunk from the thimbleful of wine the mohel had given him after the bris, was sound asleep in his bassinet.

"I'm never going to live this down," House said, putting his head in his hands.

"True," Cuddy said.

"I obviously can't go back to work. You're going to have to support me. I'll become one of those house husbands. I'll wear an apron."

She walked up to him.

"I think it's cute," she said. "World famous diagnostician passes out at the sight of his son's circumcision."

"You're not helping," he said.

She lifted his chin, kissed him on the mouth.

"I love that you're so sensitive to our son's pain," she said.

"You make me sound like an enormous wuss," he groaned.

"Well, if the vasovagel episode fits. . ."

From the floor where she was coloring, Rachel suddenly toppled over, her feet straight up in the air.

"Look at me, mama! I'm House!"

And she collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"I'm being mocked by a four-year-old," House said. "Kill me now."

#####

House's first full day back at work was as agonizing as expected, only exacerbated by the fact that Cuddy still had six more weeks left on her maternity leave.

His team was waiting for him the differential room. Chase was drinking a Big Gulp with a straw. Taub, Thirteen, and Foreman were peering at a scan.

"Morning House," they all said, cheerfully.

He sat down slowly, eyed them suspiciously.

They eyed him back, neutrally.

Somebody handed the scan to him.

House glanced at it, glanced back at his team, kept waiting.

It was a standoff. He sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up if they didn't.

Finally, reluctantly, he said, "How's the patient?"

"There's some faint signs of weakness. . ." Foreman said.

Here we go.

"This case is a real woozy," Taub said, a tiny smile playing at his lips. "I mean, doozy."

"Wanna snip of my drink?" Chase said, sliding his Big Gulp toward House. "Wait, did I just say snip?"

"Is that a Dr. Pecker?" Thirteen asked.

House gave them a sarcastic round of applause.

"Bravo," he said. "Are we done here yet? Because I will go all Judas Maccabeus on your asses if this continues."

They all laughed.

"Oh House. Your fainting at your son's bris might be the single most adorable thing you've ever done," Thirteen teased.

"You're all fired."

#####

That afternoon, he called home.

"How's Charlie?" he asked.

"He's currently asleep on my boob," Cuddy whispered.

"Ahhhh, good times," House said.

"And how was your team? Relentlessly mocking as expected?"

"Brutal," House said. "I'm going to have work twice as hard to remind them what an asshole I am."

"I have faith," Cuddy said.

There was a small pause .

"I miss you guys," House whined.

"Us guys miss you, too," Cuddy said.

"Can you come for a visit today?"

"House, it's your first day back. I think you can make it one whole day without us."

"Negative," House said. "I'm coming home for lunch."

#####

A week later, Cuddy decided to give House the night off. She was bringing Charlie and Rachel over to her mother's for dinner. He'd been such a trooper, with the pregnancy, the birth—actually, with everything—she felt he was deserving of a get-out-of-dinner-with-Arlene-free card.

"Go have a bro's night out with Wilson," she said. "Or whatever you want to do."

"Really?" he asked.

"Really. You deserve it."

"Bless you."

Turns out, Wilson had plans that night, so House went to Sullivan's, a bar he used to frequent a lot on his own.

It had been so long since he had been just a guy on a barstool, drinking alone, he positively relished the opportunity.

He sat at his favorite stool, ordered a Dewar's on the rocks.

"Haven't seen you here in a while," the bartender said, pouring the drink.

"Yeah, my wife and I just had a baby," House explained.

"Really? Congrats! Boy or girl?"

"Boy," House said. "Charlie."

Without thinking, he pulled out his iPhone, began scrolling through some pictures.

"Awww, he's cute," the bartender said, peering at the photos. "Is that your wife?"

House nodded.

"She's hot," the bartender said approvingly.

"You have no idea," House said, smiling.

"And is that your little girl?" the bartender asked, when he saw a picture of Rachel holding Charlie.

"Yeah."

"You have a beautiful family."

"I know," House said. "Thanks."

#####