The front door creaked open, and Lisa Cuddy looked up from her place on the living room couch, a medical journal balanced in her lap. Gregory House was sprawled in his usual spot, legs propped up on the coffee table, idly flipping through a TV channel lineup he had no intention of settling on. When they heard the soft shuffle of footsteps entering the house, both glanced toward the door, expecting the usual after-school routine. What they didn't expect was their daughter stepping in with a baby carrier cradled carefully in her arms.

Cuddy froze, her eyes widening as she registered the tiny bundle inside the carrier. Her professional instincts kicked in before her maternal ones, her gaze automatically scanning the baby for signs of health. Her mouth opened, but no words came out at first. The shock was too great. Finally, she stood, setting her journal aside with deliberate care.

"What... is this?" she asked, her voice calm but trembling slightly, as if she were afraid to hear the answer.

House, on the other hand, didn't bother with subtlety. His sharp blue eyes darted between the carrier and his daughter, his eyebrows climbing higher and higher. A sarcastic quip was already forming on his lips, but for once, he hesitated, something in the seriousness of the moment stopping him. Then, of course, his natural instinct to fill the silence took over.

"Well, looks like you've been busy. Did I miss the part where we signed up for 'Teen Mom: Princeton Plainsboro Edition'?" His tone was biting, but his expression betrayed a mix of confusion and concern he couldn't quite mask.

Cuddy shot House a glare, silencing him instantly, before turning back to their daughter. Her gaze softened, though her brows knit together in worry.

"Sweetheart, whose baby is this?" she asked, her voice quieter now, as though she was trying not to overwhelm her daughter. She noticed how tightly she held the carrier, the protective way she hovered over it, and the realization began to dawn on her.

"Oh my God," she whispered, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

House leaned forward now, resting his cane across his lap as he studied his daughter with a mixture of curiosity and growing seriousness. His usual sarcasm gave way to something closer to genuine inquiry.

"So, are we talking babysitting gig gone too far, or is this an 'I'm Grandpa House now' situation?" he asked, though the faintest edge of worry lingered in his tone. His fingers drummed against his cane, his mind already running through the myriad of complications this would bring.

Cuddy stepped closer, her maternal instincts overriding her initial shock. She reached out, her hand hesitating before settling gently on her daughter's arm.

"Sweetheart, talk to us," she urged softly, her tone a mix of worry and reassurance. "If this is your baby, we need to know what's going on. Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

Her voice cracked slightly at the last question, her concern evident. Meanwhile, House remained seated but unusually quiet, his eyes fixed on his daughter, waiting for an explanation that he knew would change everything.