Cuddy sat in the dimly lit ultrasound room, her eyes fixed on the monitor as the grainy black-and-white image flickered to life. The steady, rhythmic sound of the baby's heartbeat filled the air, thudding like a distant drum. Her hand was tightly wrapped around yours, her thumb occasionally brushing against your knuckles. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotion swirling inside her. It had been such a long journey, months of trying, frustration, heartbreak, and then the decision to ask House. The odds had been slim, but somehow, incredibly, it worked. And now, five months in, everything was suddenly so real.

House leaned casually against the wall, cane in hand, watching the monitor with narrowed eyes and his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Wow. It's got a head. That's a good start." He tilted his head, then looked over at Cuddy. "Let me guess, you're hoping it doesn't get my nose."

Cuddy didn't even glance at him. Her gaze remained locked on the screen, and she spoke with a tight edge to her voice. "If it gets your sarcasm, we're doomed." She squeezed your hand again and looked down at the small bump that had begun to show under the examination gown. The tech was silent, focused, moving the wand slowly as measurements were taken. Cuddy's heart thudded harder. "Everything looks okay, right?"

The technician, a woman with tired eyes and a calming voice, nodded. "Measurements are right on track. Heartbeat is strong. Spine looks good. Want to know the sex today?"

Cuddy hesitated, eyes flicking to you. That was something you hadn't quite decided on yet, whether to know now or wait. She didn't answer immediately, instead letting you have the space to decide. Her own chest felt tight with anticipation, nerves buzzing. This wasn't just a medical scan. This was your baby. A baby you had fought for. A baby that had House's DNA and, God help them, might end up inheriting his razor wit or total disregard for social rules.