It was late afternoon when House pulled into the long paved driveway, the rumble of his motorcycle echoing off the trees that surrounded their secluded property. He took a moment at the top of the driveway to stare at the house, wraparound porch, deck in the back, windows open to the breeze. He liked the quiet here. No patients, no hospital politics. Just trees, fresh air, and the two women he somehow convinced to marry him. Both of them five months pregnant. At the same time. It still felt surreal.

Cuddy was already out on the porch when she heard the bike. She rubbed her hand over her belly, which had started showing more clearly in the last few weeks. Her back ached and her mood was teetering, but seeing House pull off his helmet with that stupid smirk gave her a brief wave of relief. She didn't wave or smile, just leaned on the porch railing and waited. She could hear movement inside the house, probably in the kitchen again.

"You're late," Cuddy said the moment House reached the porch steps. She didn't sound mad, just tired.

House shrugged, climbing up the steps with that lazy gait of his. "I stopped to get more of those pickles. The spicy ones. I figured it was safer than coming home empty-handed." He handed her the paper bag and tilted his head toward the door. "How's she doing?"

Cuddy opened the bag, inspecting the jar like a suspicious detective. "She cried this morning because the laundry detergent smelled different. Then she laughed at something on TV and threw up. And I'm not doing much better." She sighed and sat down in the rocker near the door. "I swear if one more person tells me to relax, I'll bury them under this porch."

House leaned against the railing beside her, watching the trees sway in the wind. "You're glowing," he said, and then smirked. "Like a nuclear reactor about to melt down." He looked toward the window where he could see movement inside. She'd been quieter today. More withdrawn, maybe. Or maybe he was overthinking things again.

Cuddy followed his gaze and then reached over to put a hand on his arm. "She's tired. I think she's trying to act like she's fine so we don't worry." She paused. "But we're all a mess. And that's okay."

House nodded slowly, then pulled open the door. The scent of something baking hit him immediately. He peered inside. "She baking again? That's the third time this week." He dropped his keys in the bowl near the entrance and kicked off his boots. His voice was quieter as he walked farther in. "Hey... you okay in here?" He didn't want to push. But he also couldn't pretend like everything was fine.

Cuddy stayed on the porch for another moment, hands on her stomach, rocking slowly. The breeze cooled her skin, but her mind was buzzing. She loved this strange, wild life they had. But right now? Right now it was hard. She stood up finally, steadying herself, and headed inside behind him. "We're all going to be okay," she murmured under her breath. "Even if it's not easy."