FIC: "Two Men and a Baby", James Wilson/Stephen Colbert; Greg House/Eric Foreman
Title: Two Men and a Baby
Author: hawkeyecat
Fandoms: House, The Colbert Report
Pairings: James Wilson/Stephen Colbert (character); implied Greg House/Eric Foreman; House-Wilson friendship; Wilson-centric
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Prompt and Community: 006. Mpreg; wtf27
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,673
Warnings: Besides complete crack? None.
Author's Note: Thanks to cerieblue819, sarcasticsra, and sunsetsinthewes for the betas.
“I absolutely refuse to be your best man this time,” House announced one Wednesday, a month or so after Stephen had been stuck in their universe for a year. Since he’d barged into Wilson’s office and opened with that particular line, Wilson wasn’t going to bother humoring him.
“I’m not planning on getting married,” he said wearily.
“Not even for the sake of the baby he’s carrying?” House asked, mock-concerned.
“If you’ll recall, he’s not a woman.” He didn’t so much as look up from his paperwork.
“And that means he can’t be pregnant?” House asked, taking a seat across the desk.
That was enough to get Wilson’s attention. Clearly, House had actually lost his mind. That, or he was using something besides Vicodin. He leaned back in his chair. “I realize med school was a long time ago for you, but pregnancy requires a uterus and ovaries, neither of which men have.”
House squinted and shook his head. “Technically, it only requires a place for the parasite to attach itself.”
“Not to mention that I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed if I was having vaginal sex with him.” Wilson briefly wondered if he was dreaming. It would explain House’s sudden bout of forgetting basic medical facts.
“Suddenly appearing probably does weird things,” House pointed out. “If he was a woman, I’d say he’s definitely pregnant. Gaining weight, nausea, that kind of thing.”
Wilson stared at him. “You don’t even like him. How do you know any of that?”
House waved it off. “He meets you for lunch three times a week. Weight gain’s easy enough to tell. The nausea, little harder, but the whole holding his stomach as he ran for the bathroom was a clue.”
“And that leads you to…male pregnancy. Huh.” Wilson shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder how you became a renowned diagnostician. He’s not pregnant. It’s not physically possible.”
“Then test his blood for hCG. Or, even easier, get an ultrasound.” House was apparently taking this theory seriously. It definitely had to be a dream. “And figure out why he’s developing breasts while you’re at it.” He left before Wilson could work out how to reply to that; normally, telling someone not to check out a significant other’s breasts implied the significant other was female.
It should have been easy to dismiss, except that-bizarre as it was-House had a point. Stephen had been gaining weight, and not with a normal dispersal, either-mostly around his lower abdomen and pectorals. He’d complained (loudly) of being nauseous on and off, and Wilson had noticed the occasional nipple sensitivity on his own. But he couldn’t be pregnant. That was ridiculous. Also, real, not a dream.
Which was why Wilson finally got Stephen in for a physical. It could be any number of things-stress, a persistent virus, anything. He’d nearly gotten Chase to agree to do the exam, until he pointed out he was a foreigner and there was no way he’d put up with Stephen’s xenophobia, and Cameron was out because, despite all evidence to the contrary, Stephen still insisted female doctors didn’t exist. So Wilson was left with Foreman or House, and House doing anything involving sharp objects near Stephen was just a bad idea.
He had to explain at least some of House’s theory to Foreman before the exam, and when Foreman didn’t dismiss the whole “possibly pregnant boyfriend” thing outright, Wilson frowned at him.
“You don’t think there could be something to it, do you?”
“Normally, no. But normally, House wouldn’t suggest a guy could be pregnant, and normally, we wouldn’t have people appearing in our universe. Especially not non-existent people who suddenly have a life established here.”
Wilson had to concede he had a point. But really, a pregnant man seemed to be pushing the boundaries of even that weirdness.
That was Wilson’s position right up until he looked over Foreman’s shoulder while he did the ultrasound. His first reaction to the apparent mass that shouldn’t be there was, God, he has cancer. Until Foreman moved the wand and revealed the mass-within-a-mass, this one with tiny limbs and a head. Then it was more like, I could have told him he’s dying, but how the hell do I explain that he’s pregnant?
“About fourteen weeks?” Foreman said quietly, and Wilson found himself nodding in agreement.
“Can you-” The question became moot when the fetus moved, revealing that it was most definitely a girl. Foreman froze the image there and printed it out, then looked up at Wilson helplessly, waiting for him to say something.
“This is…different.”
“What?” Stephen demanded. “I have cancer, don’t I? It’s a tumor.”
“Uh…no.” Wilson turned the screen toward Stephen. “Not exactly, anyway. Somehow-I have no idea how-you have a uterus and ovaries.” Foreman obligingly moved the wand up to show him the ovaries.
Stephen, understandably, looked at him like he was absolutely insane. “Did the bears get to you?” he asked suspiciously. “This isn’t funny, James. I’m all man.”
“Sorry, Stephen,” Foreman interrupted. “But that’s right. You’re pregnant.”
Thanks, Foreman. Wilson had been handling it as best he could. “About fourteen weeks,” Wilson confirmed. “If you want to terminate-”
Bad choice of words. “Abortion is murder,” Stephen declared. “Even if I could be pregnant, which I clearly can’t be and so am not, selfishly deciding to commit homicide is a sin.” He nodded firmly.
“Then in about twenty-six weeks, we’ll have a daughter.” Wilson couldn’t believe the words were coming out of his mouth. This wasn’t one of his wives; this was Stephen. Not that any of his wives had ever been pregnant. As far as he knew.
Comprehension was beginning to dawn on Stephen’s face, and he stubbornly shook his head. “I want a second opinion.”
“You got a second opinion,” Foreman said under his breath. “We’re both doctors.”
“Since James is biased, his opinion doesn’t count.” Thanks, Stephen, even if he was just rationalizing. And then he said the…well, not fatal, but definitely misery-causing, words: “I want House’s opinion.”
House’s opinion. Wilson would prefer it if House never even knew this appointment took place, let alone living without his opinion. In fact, if he could, he’d hide the pregnancy thing until the baby was born. Tell House the child had just appeared out of nowhere, like Stephen. It wouldn’t technically be a lie.
Born. That presented an entirely new set of issues.
He realized Foreman was looking at him, eyebrow arched. “You want me to call him down?”
No. He wanted Foreman to send House somewhere very far away, preferably for the next six months. But he gave a resigned shrug. “That’s what he wants.”
Foreman’s call up to House’s office started out with, “House, need you in the clinic. It’s Stephen,” and, after a moment, devolved into Foreman lowering his voice to the point that Wilson could barely hear him say, “Greg, it’s interesting. You’ll like the case. Yeah, I promise.” When he hung up, he gave Wilson an amused look. “He says you owe him.”
“After all the lunches I’ve bought him, it won’t kill him to see a patient,” Wilson grumbled, and got ‘you have to be kidding’ stares from two directions.
It only took House about five minutes to get down to the clinic. Foreman briefly filled him in, and House took over the stool and ultrasound wand, finding the still-existent uterus and fetus. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you kids about birth control?” House admonished them. “You’re due in late March.”
Stephen was staring at House. “It can’t be,” he said weakly. “I just haven’t been going to the gym as much, eating as well. I’m not…”
House shook his head. “You’re pregnant. Must be a shock, since your wife did all the work before, but it’s your turn.”
“It’s a trick,” Stephen tried. “You’re all trying to play a joke on me. Well, it’s not working.”
“Stephen.” House looked at him steadily. “Not a joke.”
“But…men can’t…”
House apparently, for once in the entire time Stephen had been there, took something like pity on him. “Randomly appearing apparently screws with people. With the way you can’t leave, I think it probably gave you the uterus and ovaries either when you got here. When they do the Cesarean, they can also do a hysterectomy.”
“Cesarean?” Wilson interrupted, dazed by everything that had happened. “You don’t know that-”
“Great figure, I’ll give him that, but those aren’t what I’d call childbearing hips.” House set down the wand and stood. “We can handle the prenatal, but you better talk to Cuddy about finding a surgeon who can keep their mouth shut. And I’m still not going to be your best man.” With that he left, Foreman giving Wilson a shrug before he followed.
Surgeon. Right. And figure out how, exactly, they were going to put two fathers on the birth certificate, not to mention getting through the rest of the pregnancy. And inform Cuddy of the pregnancy to begin with.
“James, I didn’t know,” Stephen stammered. “I mean, of course I couldn’t know, but if I had, I would have told you so we could do something about it.”
Wilson gave him a gentle kiss. “I know, Stephen. We’ll…figure something out.”
As it turned out, figuring something out wasn’t as hard as it sounded. No, it was about a million times worse. Stephen could telecommute for his column, so that solved one of their many problems. They had to buy a house, since the apartment was too small for a kid. House and Foreman did far more research on obstetrics than a nephrologist and neurologist ever should, just to make sure Stephen had decent care. (House made sure to inform Wilson he wasn’t doing it for Stephen, but for the poor kid. He might not be able to protect her from Wilson’s spoiling or Stephen’s insanity, but he could make sure she was healthy when she encountered it. That led to Wilson rolling his eyes and challenging House to do a better job raising a kid, which led to Foreman cornering Wilson.) They also had to work out some way to do the equivalent of a pelvic, which took a while and couldn’t have been a particularly pleasant way to use their time. Stephen had to cope with gaining weight, not to mention breasts, and increasing discomfort as his pregnancy progressed. Wilson began actively avoiding contagious patients, just so he wouldn’t get Stephen or the baby sick. Wilson had to deal with Stephen’s sudden hormonal mood swings. All in all, the six months between finding out and the actual Cesarean were fairly hellish.
In what House estimated was Stephen’s twenty-eighth week, Stephen-who had been chewing at his lower lip as he wrote notes, his free hand absently rubbing his belly-looked up at Wilson and said, “We should go down to the courthouse.”
Wilson very nearly choked on his water. “You want to get married?” he managed when he could talk again. “You know my track record with marriages.”
“Even if it is a liberal law that goes against the Bible and this country’s founding principles, children should have married parents.” Stephen sounded definite on that point, and aside from the entire first clause, Wilson could agree with him.
“I’ll…try to get vacation time.” And find someone who would be a witness besides House. If he did this right, House wouldn’t even know until after they did it.
Obviously, Wilson had underestimated the hospital’s gossip chain. He said something to his assistant about being gone for three days in two weeks, and apparently a nurse overheard. One nurse overhearing meant the entire nursing staff had overheard, which meant Chase got ahold of it, which meant Foreman got the news. And, of course, because Foreman knew, House knew.
Wilson really had to start locking his door, or at least attach some kind of tracking device to House so he could be avoided. This whole taking over his office thing was getting old.
“He can’t be getting an abortion,” House stated, “and you wouldn’t take time off for no reason.”
Wilson rolled his eyes. “Yes, the only reason I’d want time off is if Stephen was having an invasive procedure performed. I’ll cancel my week before the surgery, since I only need to be there after.”
House ignored that. “And you want to save as much vacation time as possible for after the parasite-”
“Eva,” Wilson corrected him.
“-is born. So that leaves either a family thing, or you’re doing something stupid.”
Wilson hated it when House studied him like that. It made him feel like he was being dissected, looked at under an electron microscope until House had every last bit of information, then being put back together. “Telling you it’s none of your business would just be a waste of breath, wouldn’t it?”
“Obviously. And since you haven’t mentioned a family thing, it’s something stupid.” House smirked at him. “You’re getting married. Again.”
“You know what they say. Fourth time’s the charm.”
“That’s third.”
“Should be fourth. Besides, kids should have married parents.”
“Kids should have sane parents,” House muttered, getting up. “I don’t see you providing that.”
Wilson tossed down his pen, exasperated. “You don’t like him. Got it. You didn’t like him from the moment he got here, and believe it or not, I got it then. But complaining about him doesn’t change the fact that I’m marrying him in two weeks, or that I love him. So shut up, grow up, and deal with it.”
House, surprisingly, actually kept his mouth shut as he left. Finally.
He didn’t comment on the lack of a ring after Wilson got back. He didn’t even ask how a January wedding went, or mention that sleet was probably a bad omen. Wilson was actually surprised by his restraint. Right up to Stephen’s next exam, when they changed the name on his chart.
Wilson had honestly expected House not to notice. It wasn’t like the man needed to read charts to do his job, especially when he’d done all the previous exams. But when House’s eyes landed on the new label, Wilson briefly considered crawling into one of the exam table drawers to die.
“You changed your name,” House said incredulously. “Not only did you change your name, you didn’t even hyphenate.”
“It’s a perfectly logical move,” Stephen said defensively. “Traditionally, the mother of the children takes the father’s name.”
“Technically, you’re both fathers,” House pointed out.
That gave Stephen only a moment’s pause. “It’s my uterus.”
House just stared at Stephen for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay, Mrs. Wilson.”
Miraculously, the rest of the pregnancy-only another eight weeks before the scheduled Cesarean-passed relatively incident-free. Granted, Stephen couldn’t get comfortable to sleep, and Wilson wound up on the couch more times than he wanted to count just so he could get some rest, but that was half-expected. On the day of the surgery, Stephen heaved himself into the car and looked at Wilson for a moment.
“The surgeon is good?”
“House and I hand-picked him,” Wilson assured him. “You’ll be fine.” They’d also had to explain more than Cuddy wanted to get Ryson to agree, and then come up with a generic “mass removal” code for insurance and charting purposes, but it should go all right. Hopefully.
Stephen nodded, apparently trusting that. “And you’ll be there, right?”
“The whole time.”
“Then let’s go.”
The surgery itself didn’t take long at all. Stephen opted to be fully anesthetized for it, which meant Wilson was the one to take Eva as soon as she was half-wrapped in a towel. She was drowsy at first, but after a moment in the cool air of the operating room, she gave a healthy yell, and Wilson smiled down at her. He had a distant feeling that House had been right about spoiling her, but just then, holding his daughter for the first time, he couldn’t sum up a single reason that mattered.
Author: hawkeyecat
Fandoms: House, The Colbert Report
Pairings: James Wilson/Stephen Colbert (character); implied Greg House/Eric Foreman; House-Wilson friendship; Wilson-centric
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Prompt and Community: 006. Mpreg; wtf27
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,673
Warnings: Besides complete crack? None.
Author's Note: Thanks to cerieblue819, sarcasticsra, and sunsetsinthewes for the betas.
“I absolutely refuse to be your best man this time,” House announced one Wednesday, a month or so after Stephen had been stuck in their universe for a year. Since he’d barged into Wilson’s office and opened with that particular line, Wilson wasn’t going to bother humoring him.
“I’m not planning on getting married,” he said wearily.
“Not even for the sake of the baby he’s carrying?” House asked, mock-concerned.
“If you’ll recall, he’s not a woman.” He didn’t so much as look up from his paperwork.
“And that means he can’t be pregnant?” House asked, taking a seat across the desk.
That was enough to get Wilson’s attention. Clearly, House had actually lost his mind. That, or he was using something besides Vicodin. He leaned back in his chair. “I realize med school was a long time ago for you, but pregnancy requires a uterus and ovaries, neither of which men have.”
House squinted and shook his head. “Technically, it only requires a place for the parasite to attach itself.”
“Not to mention that I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed if I was having vaginal sex with him.” Wilson briefly wondered if he was dreaming. It would explain House’s sudden bout of forgetting basic medical facts.
“Suddenly appearing probably does weird things,” House pointed out. “If he was a woman, I’d say he’s definitely pregnant. Gaining weight, nausea, that kind of thing.”
Wilson stared at him. “You don’t even like him. How do you know any of that?”
House waved it off. “He meets you for lunch three times a week. Weight gain’s easy enough to tell. The nausea, little harder, but the whole holding his stomach as he ran for the bathroom was a clue.”
“And that leads you to…male pregnancy. Huh.” Wilson shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder how you became a renowned diagnostician. He’s not pregnant. It’s not physically possible.”
“Then test his blood for hCG. Or, even easier, get an ultrasound.” House was apparently taking this theory seriously. It definitely had to be a dream. “And figure out why he’s developing breasts while you’re at it.” He left before Wilson could work out how to reply to that; normally, telling someone not to check out a significant other’s breasts implied the significant other was female.
It should have been easy to dismiss, except that-bizarre as it was-House had a point. Stephen had been gaining weight, and not with a normal dispersal, either-mostly around his lower abdomen and pectorals. He’d complained (loudly) of being nauseous on and off, and Wilson had noticed the occasional nipple sensitivity on his own. But he couldn’t be pregnant. That was ridiculous. Also, real, not a dream.
Which was why Wilson finally got Stephen in for a physical. It could be any number of things-stress, a persistent virus, anything. He’d nearly gotten Chase to agree to do the exam, until he pointed out he was a foreigner and there was no way he’d put up with Stephen’s xenophobia, and Cameron was out because, despite all evidence to the contrary, Stephen still insisted female doctors didn’t exist. So Wilson was left with Foreman or House, and House doing anything involving sharp objects near Stephen was just a bad idea.
He had to explain at least some of House’s theory to Foreman before the exam, and when Foreman didn’t dismiss the whole “possibly pregnant boyfriend” thing outright, Wilson frowned at him.
“You don’t think there could be something to it, do you?”
“Normally, no. But normally, House wouldn’t suggest a guy could be pregnant, and normally, we wouldn’t have people appearing in our universe. Especially not non-existent people who suddenly have a life established here.”
Wilson had to concede he had a point. But really, a pregnant man seemed to be pushing the boundaries of even that weirdness.
That was Wilson’s position right up until he looked over Foreman’s shoulder while he did the ultrasound. His first reaction to the apparent mass that shouldn’t be there was, God, he has cancer. Until Foreman moved the wand and revealed the mass-within-a-mass, this one with tiny limbs and a head. Then it was more like, I could have told him he’s dying, but how the hell do I explain that he’s pregnant?
“About fourteen weeks?” Foreman said quietly, and Wilson found himself nodding in agreement.
“Can you-” The question became moot when the fetus moved, revealing that it was most definitely a girl. Foreman froze the image there and printed it out, then looked up at Wilson helplessly, waiting for him to say something.
“This is…different.”
“What?” Stephen demanded. “I have cancer, don’t I? It’s a tumor.”
“Uh…no.” Wilson turned the screen toward Stephen. “Not exactly, anyway. Somehow-I have no idea how-you have a uterus and ovaries.” Foreman obligingly moved the wand up to show him the ovaries.
Stephen, understandably, looked at him like he was absolutely insane. “Did the bears get to you?” he asked suspiciously. “This isn’t funny, James. I’m all man.”
“Sorry, Stephen,” Foreman interrupted. “But that’s right. You’re pregnant.”
Thanks, Foreman. Wilson had been handling it as best he could. “About fourteen weeks,” Wilson confirmed. “If you want to terminate-”
Bad choice of words. “Abortion is murder,” Stephen declared. “Even if I could be pregnant, which I clearly can’t be and so am not, selfishly deciding to commit homicide is a sin.” He nodded firmly.
“Then in about twenty-six weeks, we’ll have a daughter.” Wilson couldn’t believe the words were coming out of his mouth. This wasn’t one of his wives; this was Stephen. Not that any of his wives had ever been pregnant. As far as he knew.
Comprehension was beginning to dawn on Stephen’s face, and he stubbornly shook his head. “I want a second opinion.”
“You got a second opinion,” Foreman said under his breath. “We’re both doctors.”
“Since James is biased, his opinion doesn’t count.” Thanks, Stephen, even if he was just rationalizing. And then he said the…well, not fatal, but definitely misery-causing, words: “I want House’s opinion.”
House’s opinion. Wilson would prefer it if House never even knew this appointment took place, let alone living without his opinion. In fact, if he could, he’d hide the pregnancy thing until the baby was born. Tell House the child had just appeared out of nowhere, like Stephen. It wouldn’t technically be a lie.
Born. That presented an entirely new set of issues.
He realized Foreman was looking at him, eyebrow arched. “You want me to call him down?”
No. He wanted Foreman to send House somewhere very far away, preferably for the next six months. But he gave a resigned shrug. “That’s what he wants.”
Foreman’s call up to House’s office started out with, “House, need you in the clinic. It’s Stephen,” and, after a moment, devolved into Foreman lowering his voice to the point that Wilson could barely hear him say, “Greg, it’s interesting. You’ll like the case. Yeah, I promise.” When he hung up, he gave Wilson an amused look. “He says you owe him.”
“After all the lunches I’ve bought him, it won’t kill him to see a patient,” Wilson grumbled, and got ‘you have to be kidding’ stares from two directions.
It only took House about five minutes to get down to the clinic. Foreman briefly filled him in, and House took over the stool and ultrasound wand, finding the still-existent uterus and fetus. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you kids about birth control?” House admonished them. “You’re due in late March.”
Stephen was staring at House. “It can’t be,” he said weakly. “I just haven’t been going to the gym as much, eating as well. I’m not…”
House shook his head. “You’re pregnant. Must be a shock, since your wife did all the work before, but it’s your turn.”
“It’s a trick,” Stephen tried. “You’re all trying to play a joke on me. Well, it’s not working.”
“Stephen.” House looked at him steadily. “Not a joke.”
“But…men can’t…”
House apparently, for once in the entire time Stephen had been there, took something like pity on him. “Randomly appearing apparently screws with people. With the way you can’t leave, I think it probably gave you the uterus and ovaries either when you got here. When they do the Cesarean, they can also do a hysterectomy.”
“Cesarean?” Wilson interrupted, dazed by everything that had happened. “You don’t know that-”
“Great figure, I’ll give him that, but those aren’t what I’d call childbearing hips.” House set down the wand and stood. “We can handle the prenatal, but you better talk to Cuddy about finding a surgeon who can keep their mouth shut. And I’m still not going to be your best man.” With that he left, Foreman giving Wilson a shrug before he followed.
Surgeon. Right. And figure out how, exactly, they were going to put two fathers on the birth certificate, not to mention getting through the rest of the pregnancy. And inform Cuddy of the pregnancy to begin with.
“James, I didn’t know,” Stephen stammered. “I mean, of course I couldn’t know, but if I had, I would have told you so we could do something about it.”
Wilson gave him a gentle kiss. “I know, Stephen. We’ll…figure something out.”
As it turned out, figuring something out wasn’t as hard as it sounded. No, it was about a million times worse. Stephen could telecommute for his column, so that solved one of their many problems. They had to buy a house, since the apartment was too small for a kid. House and Foreman did far more research on obstetrics than a nephrologist and neurologist ever should, just to make sure Stephen had decent care. (House made sure to inform Wilson he wasn’t doing it for Stephen, but for the poor kid. He might not be able to protect her from Wilson’s spoiling or Stephen’s insanity, but he could make sure she was healthy when she encountered it. That led to Wilson rolling his eyes and challenging House to do a better job raising a kid, which led to Foreman cornering Wilson.) They also had to work out some way to do the equivalent of a pelvic, which took a while and couldn’t have been a particularly pleasant way to use their time. Stephen had to cope with gaining weight, not to mention breasts, and increasing discomfort as his pregnancy progressed. Wilson began actively avoiding contagious patients, just so he wouldn’t get Stephen or the baby sick. Wilson had to deal with Stephen’s sudden hormonal mood swings. All in all, the six months between finding out and the actual Cesarean were fairly hellish.
In what House estimated was Stephen’s twenty-eighth week, Stephen-who had been chewing at his lower lip as he wrote notes, his free hand absently rubbing his belly-looked up at Wilson and said, “We should go down to the courthouse.”
Wilson very nearly choked on his water. “You want to get married?” he managed when he could talk again. “You know my track record with marriages.”
“Even if it is a liberal law that goes against the Bible and this country’s founding principles, children should have married parents.” Stephen sounded definite on that point, and aside from the entire first clause, Wilson could agree with him.
“I’ll…try to get vacation time.” And find someone who would be a witness besides House. If he did this right, House wouldn’t even know until after they did it.
Obviously, Wilson had underestimated the hospital’s gossip chain. He said something to his assistant about being gone for three days in two weeks, and apparently a nurse overheard. One nurse overhearing meant the entire nursing staff had overheard, which meant Chase got ahold of it, which meant Foreman got the news. And, of course, because Foreman knew, House knew.
Wilson really had to start locking his door, or at least attach some kind of tracking device to House so he could be avoided. This whole taking over his office thing was getting old.
“He can’t be getting an abortion,” House stated, “and you wouldn’t take time off for no reason.”
Wilson rolled his eyes. “Yes, the only reason I’d want time off is if Stephen was having an invasive procedure performed. I’ll cancel my week before the surgery, since I only need to be there after.”
House ignored that. “And you want to save as much vacation time as possible for after the parasite-”
“Eva,” Wilson corrected him.
“-is born. So that leaves either a family thing, or you’re doing something stupid.”
Wilson hated it when House studied him like that. It made him feel like he was being dissected, looked at under an electron microscope until House had every last bit of information, then being put back together. “Telling you it’s none of your business would just be a waste of breath, wouldn’t it?”
“Obviously. And since you haven’t mentioned a family thing, it’s something stupid.” House smirked at him. “You’re getting married. Again.”
“You know what they say. Fourth time’s the charm.”
“That’s third.”
“Should be fourth. Besides, kids should have married parents.”
“Kids should have sane parents,” House muttered, getting up. “I don’t see you providing that.”
Wilson tossed down his pen, exasperated. “You don’t like him. Got it. You didn’t like him from the moment he got here, and believe it or not, I got it then. But complaining about him doesn’t change the fact that I’m marrying him in two weeks, or that I love him. So shut up, grow up, and deal with it.”
House, surprisingly, actually kept his mouth shut as he left. Finally.
He didn’t comment on the lack of a ring after Wilson got back. He didn’t even ask how a January wedding went, or mention that sleet was probably a bad omen. Wilson was actually surprised by his restraint. Right up to Stephen’s next exam, when they changed the name on his chart.
Wilson had honestly expected House not to notice. It wasn’t like the man needed to read charts to do his job, especially when he’d done all the previous exams. But when House’s eyes landed on the new label, Wilson briefly considered crawling into one of the exam table drawers to die.
“You changed your name,” House said incredulously. “Not only did you change your name, you didn’t even hyphenate.”
“It’s a perfectly logical move,” Stephen said defensively. “Traditionally, the mother of the children takes the father’s name.”
“Technically, you’re both fathers,” House pointed out.
That gave Stephen only a moment’s pause. “It’s my uterus.”
House just stared at Stephen for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay, Mrs. Wilson.”
Miraculously, the rest of the pregnancy-only another eight weeks before the scheduled Cesarean-passed relatively incident-free. Granted, Stephen couldn’t get comfortable to sleep, and Wilson wound up on the couch more times than he wanted to count just so he could get some rest, but that was half-expected. On the day of the surgery, Stephen heaved himself into the car and looked at Wilson for a moment.
“The surgeon is good?”
“House and I hand-picked him,” Wilson assured him. “You’ll be fine.” They’d also had to explain more than Cuddy wanted to get Ryson to agree, and then come up with a generic “mass removal” code for insurance and charting purposes, but it should go all right. Hopefully.
Stephen nodded, apparently trusting that. “And you’ll be there, right?”
“The whole time.”
“Then let’s go.”
The surgery itself didn’t take long at all. Stephen opted to be fully anesthetized for it, which meant Wilson was the one to take Eva as soon as she was half-wrapped in a towel. She was drowsy at first, but after a moment in the cool air of the operating room, she gave a healthy yell, and Wilson smiled down at her. He had a distant feeling that House had been right about spoiling her, but just then, holding his daughter for the first time, he couldn’t sum up a single reason that mattered.