Sue Storm


The noise of a ringing phone woke House far too early on a Saturday morning. Opening one bleary eye as the phone gave another shrill cry, he saw that it had snowed even more since he’d fallen asleep; there was at least an inch of snow on the ledge, and beyond that, darkness. It had to be early.

He felt shuffling, the bed dipping and changing as Wilson sat up and looked for the source of the annoying ringing.

“Ignore whoever it is,” House said.

“House, it’s four-thirty in the morning – it might be important,” Wilson said.

“It’s four-thirty in the morning and no one should be calling,” House said. “Ignore them.”

The ringing stopped. House basked in the sound of silence.

“See?” he said, and closed his eyes to go back to sleep.

It took only seconds, and then the ringing was back. House groaned into his pillow as Wilson answered the phone.


House drowned out the conversation best he could, digging his face as far into the pillow as possible. He heard Wilson’s voice getting a bit more agitated, the sleepiness washing away, and House knew that it didn’t bode well for him.

“Of course, we’re on our way – just hang tight, okay? And call me on my cell if anything happens.”

He clicked off the phone and turned to House, who pointedly ignored him.

“Come on, House,” Wilson said. “Cuddy’s in labor, and we need to get her to the hospital.”

House glared at him. “She’s a doctor, she must know how to deliver a baby.”

“Yeah, but perhaps not her own,” Wilson said.

He pulled House’s arm, and House made himself as heavy as possible.

“Why can’t she just take a cab to the hospital?” House asked.

“Because the few taxis that are out right now are busy, seeing how it’s a Saturday morning and there is a foot of snow outside,” Wilson said.

“You know, this is all just to annoy me,” House grumbled, sitting up.

“Yes, I’m sure Cuddy decided to go into labor just for your sake,” Wilson said. “Can’t be that she’s due in two weeks anyway. Come on, hurry up.”

Somehow, Wilson was already dressed and taking out clothes for House. By the time House had dressed too, Wilson was wearing his coat and a silly cap, and leather gloves. His usual dress shoes had been exchanged for heavy boots that could survive all the snow outside.

“I’m going to fall and break my neck in all that snow,” House said. “Why does she want me there anyway?”

“Don’t ask me,” Wilson said. “I’m bringing the car around so that you don’t have so far too walk, okay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but hurried outside, into the snow storm. House zipped his coat tighter, and put on gloves on his own, before grabbing his cane and locking the door.

The snow fell heavily outside and a chilly wind made it all extremely unpleasant. House wondered why he was here and not in bed – he really, really, really should be in bed. He waited in the doorway until Wilson came around with the car, its lanterns lighting up the falling snowflakes.

House hobbled carefully down the stairs and into the waiting car. Each step felt precarious, and he knew that ice could be hiding anywhere. He tried not to put too much weight on the cane, in case it gave out.

“Perfect weather for cripples, this,” House said. “Cuddy had better participate in that threesome I’ve been thinking about, for putting us through this crap.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” Wilson said, and leaned over and kissed House on the cheek. “Cold, but fine.”

“It’s freezing,” House whined.

Wilson pulled out onto the street, the tires barely gripping the asphalt hidden beneath the snow. He drove slower than usual.

“You drive like my grandmother,” House said.

“Thanks,” Wilson said, “but I’d prefer to keep us alive all the way to Cuddy, rather than sitting wrapped around a tree because the brakes wouldn’t take.”

House grumbled his response. He rubbed his hands together, trying to get warm – the car’s heating system wasn’t quick, especially not in these conditions.

“It’s gonna take forever to get from Cuddy to the hospital,” House said.

Wilson nodded. “I packed some stuff. We’ll see how far along she is when we get there.”

They rode in silence. Sleep tugged at House’s mind, and he hoped that Wilson was more awake. They met hardly any other cars – just a cab here and there. A few people were out, bottles in hand. House turned on the radio to keep Wilson from falling asleep.

Cuddy’s house was decorated with a few Christmas lights, but not much. Wilson pulled into the driveway and stopped behind Cuddy’s car, turning the engine off.

While Wilson got the bag House hadn’t seen him pack, House worked on getting out of the car without falling on his ass. It was harder than it should have been, and when Wilson came around and held out his hand, House took it wordlessly, leaning on Wilson rather than the cane as they made their way up to Cuddy’s front door.

Wilson didn’t bother to knock; he opened the door and stepped inside, House right behind him.

“Lisa?” he called.

There was a grunting noise, and the response came. “In the living room.”

They walked inside with shoes and coats on, not yet knowing if they would have time to take Cuddy to the hospital or not. When they came into the living room, they saw Cuddy, on the floor, leaning against a couch. She was panting hard, strangled noises pressed between gritted teeth.

“What timing, coming in the middle of a contraction,” House said.

Cuddy glared daggers at him before squeezing her eyes shut again. Ten, fifteen seconds later, the pain seemed to ease up and she relaxed. Still panting, she looked up at House and Wilson.

“Three minutes apart,” she said.

Wilson’s face scrunched into that concerned look of his. “Three? Then I’m not sure we’ll have time—”

“I know,” Cuddy said. “They’re coming faster and faster.”

“They’re supposed to, you know,” House quipped.

Cuddy and Wilson both glared at him. House let his gaze wander over Cuddy’s body, distorted as it was. She wasn’t quite full-term, but almost, and her belly certainly looked full-term. Her breasts, which House had a particularly fine view of because he was standing above her, were full and lovely. House might be with Wilson, but he would never fail to appreciate the curves of the female body.

It took just under four minutes for another contraction to grip Cuddy. Wilson held her hand through it, and House stared at them both.

Within half an hour, the contractions were coming just a minute apart, and Cuddy had removed her underwear and been placed on a bed sheet on the floor. Wilson had checked her several times already, and she was nearing full dilation.

The wind howled outside, picking up in speed and sending even more snow towards the ground. House sat next to Cuddy, and she gripped his hand tightly, hissing in pain as she went through a birth with hardly any painkillers – only what Wilson had had with him, which wasn’t much.

It had been a while since House was present at a birth – years, in fact. He’d forgotten the amounts of pain, blood and general messiness that came with it. Now he watched Cuddy and Wilson as they interacted – he was the coach, with a steady, gentle voice, telling her to breathe, in, out, and she was the performer, listening to him through the hazy pain. House had to admire them both – Wilson had a way to stay calm and collected, and so safe, in the face of chaos, and Cuddy was giving birth to her baby on the floor of her living room, so that was kind of impressive on its own.

Then, after Cuddy tried to crush every bone in House’s hand, and after she screamed bloody murder, there were cries. Wilson’s ‘push, come on, just one more’, turned into—

“Congratulations, you have a baby girl.”

Cuddy’s panting turned into a sort of chuckle, wet with tears and sweat.

“House, would you mind drying her off?” Wilson asked.

He didn’t wait for House to answer before handing the slippery child to him. House took the baby – who was as messy and bloody as her mother – and looked at it. It had Cuddy’s hair and nose, and quite possibly her eyes, clear blue.

There were towels within his reach, which was good thinking by Wilson, because House wouldn’t have been able to get up even if he’d wanted to – his leg was killing him. He took two towels – fittingly pink – and started to carefully dry the child off, taking special care around the nose and mouth. The baby’s breathing was fine, though, and after a minute or two, House placed her on her mother’s chest.

Cuddy gazed down at the baby with love, and gasped as it began suckling milk from her breast.

“See, another one who likes your twins,” House said.

Cuddy, for once, didn’t respond. Her hair plastered against her red face, and she still looked a complete mess, but even House had to admit that they made a beautiful picture, mother and baby.

“Congratulations,” Wilson said, finally removing himself from between Cuddy’s legs after examining her for tears and making sure the afterbirth was as it should be.

“Thank you,” Cuddy said, very softly. “Thank you so much.”

Wilson came up next to House, and gazed at the baby. The little girl ate happily, unaware of the people watching her.

“So what’re you gonna call her?” House asked. “Sue Storm, perhaps? Considering the weather, I think that’d be perfect.”

Cuddy looked at him, and chuckled lightly. “Thanks for being here, House. “I know you just see yourself as ‘the donor’, but I’m glad you were here to see her born.”

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