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Pussyfooting Around
by Taima Hiroshima
"So um, it'll only be two more months now." James was lying on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes. He had been working double shifts, trying to earn extra leave for right after the baby came home.
"Yup," House agreed. He was looking at a small photograph that the surrogate had sent them. It was the latest ultrasound of the baby. She had no idea about the gender of the life she was carrying inside of her, but House knew how to read an ultrasound.
"Is it a boy or a girl?" James sat up. He had just gotten home. His tie wasn't even off yet. He reached for the picture, but House jerked it away.
"Didn't you want to be surprised?" he teased.
"I also wanted to fall in love with someone who wasn't a bastard, but we see how that turned out, don't we?" James made another grab for it. House gave him a sneer and clutched it. He tucked it into his jeans pocket.
"Like I can't just get it out of there? Are you trying to insult my intelligence?"
"Gee, I wonder what you're first clue was." Greg stretched. "God, Wilson, you really are slower than I thought. What a shame. It's a good thing we used my sperm."
"Why DID we use your sperm anyway?" James blinked. From the beginning, it was just assumed that it would be Greg's by blood.
"Because I'm older,"
"No, seriously. You have to have a better reason than that!" James protested. Greg gave him a look, which clearly said; "It's me we're talking about..."
"Okay, maybe YOU don't have to have a better reason than that."
"Nope!" Greg grinned jauntily, opening up a beer. He took a long drink. "I'm so glad I'm not a woman. I wouldn't have been able to live through a pregnancy without beer."
"Leia said she's never been a drinker or a smoker."
"No, Leia's lawyer said that." Greg corrected him. The rules of the agency said they were not to have any direct contact with the surrogate mother of their child. She was allowed to send them ultrasound photos, and they sent her money for prenatal care, clothes, and food.
"Don't you trust him, even?"
"I don't trust any woman who's getting paid to be knocked up. Women always complain about pregnancy, and yet this one asked for it?"
"Well, don't look at me, you picked her." James shrugged.
"Yeah, only 'cause she's got a cool name."
"Speaking of names...." James began.
"Oh no! We're not doing THIS are we?" Greg groaned. He set down his beer bottle. Birdie climbed onto the sofa. She walked along the back, behind their heads, before leaping down to settled between them. She washed her face. James reached over to scratch her behind the ears.
"Since you got to name the cat, I think I should get to name our child." James said diplomatically. Greg quirked a brow.
"I named the cat because you wanted to give her a stupid name. The only way I was going to let you keep her was if I named her."
"Well, you wouldn't do the same to our child, would you?" Greg gave him another look. James groaned and buried his face in his hands.
"You've got no one to blame but yourself." Greg sang. "You picked me!"
"No, I was cursed with you."
"I said you picked me. What's the difference?" Greg picked up the cat. "Did you have any names in mind?"
"I like the name Kathleen for a girl, or Brett for a boy."
"We are not going to give our child a soap opera name!" Greg protested. He put down the cat and went to the kitchen. There was silence as he made two sandwiches. He brought one out to James, who silently accepted it.
"They aren't soap opera names, they're perfectly respectable names."
"....From soap operas." Greg mumbled. He ought to know, he was the one who watched General Hospital religiously. He also knew that James enjoyed watching some of the stories himself.
"Well, fine then, I guess all my names suck." James pouted. Greg nodded in agreement. James gave him a dirty look. The older man reached over to peck the oncologist on the cheek.
"We still have to paint the guest room and get a crib."
"I know, I was just thinking about that. We can't very well paint it pink or blue, because we don't know what the baby is."
"YOU don't know." Greg smirked. James barely resisted the urge to smack him. He sighed and rubbed his temples.
"Listen, I've got a splitting headache. I think I'll just go to bed." He hefted himself off the couch and went into the bedroom.
"Well, Birdie, I guess it's just you and me." House said to the cat. He had been feeding her bites of his ham sandwich, but now that it was gone, the cat lithely leapt off the sofa and followed James.
"Traitor!" he called after her.
**
James woke up sometime later that night. He heard a familiar tune that made him want to curl further under the blanket. It was a warm, comforting kind of song. Curious, her wondered where it was coming from.
He got out of bed and crept into the living room. House was sitting at his piano, playing Brahms. James listened to him until he finished the song.
"Don't think I'll subject our child to too much of that drivel." He didn't look up from the keys. James walked over him and wrapped his arms around Greg's shoulders. He rested his chin on top of Greg's head, enjoying the scent of his shampoo.
"I didn't think you would. I love you, Greg." It was something he knew he wouldn't get a response to. Greg didn't like to come right out and say that he loved people. Instead, he reached up and rubbed James's arm.
"Come on. It won't be long until we hear a little voice calling for one of us in the middle of the night, interrupting any other.... Activities we may be doing. We might as well take advantage of the privacy while we have it." Greg stood up and grabbed his cane. Together, the couple went into the bedroom.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, what about the sex of the baby? And what about a name? What do you guys think? I'm open to suggestions.
Please post a comment on this story.
Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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