Disclaimer: They weren't mine during Play the Game, and they still aren't. But I own the kids, bitches.
Author's Note: Here is the much-requested sequel to Play the Game. Thanks to Tasha, my oh-so-cool beta, for keeping me sane throughout this process. Hope you guys like it!
"I'm not trying to-"
"Fucking Christ, Allison, it hurts!"
"You need to stop leaning on your left leg…"
"I'm not going to stop leaning! It's fucking twitching!"
"Greg! Calm down! You promised you'd do this!"
"It was in your vows!"
"Goddammit, Allison, it was really-"
"It's two more steps, Greg."
"Fuck the steps. Give me my cane."
"Two more steps."
"Fuck two more steps."
"Fuck you. Take two more steps."
He glared at her and took two painstaking steps. It took him five minutes, but he did it before collapsing on the floor and shooting her a menacing look. "Bitch."
"Yeah." She kneeled down next to him, which was difficult with her seven-month-pregnant belly, and placed an ice pack on his thigh. "But you took twenty steps today instead of eighteen."
Sweat poured down Gregory House's forehead as he studied his wife, who was now massaging his aching thigh. Yes, he'd promised in his wedding vows to go through physical therapy, but he didn't think that Allison would have the balls to stay with him throughout the whole thing. He'd been horribly, horribly wrong. Despite the fact that her stomach continued to swell with their child, she'd gone to every session with him and coached him at home three nights per week.
"How's it feeling?" Allison asked gently.
"Like it's on fire," he grumbled back, giving a small moan when she pressed a little too hard. She apologized and lightened up on her massaging. "I can't believe you."
She gave him a smile and kissed his sweaty forehead. "You ought to by now. You've forbidden me from seeing patients; I need to heal someone."
"You're seven months pregnant and working in an infectious disease ward. You can't go anywhere near the patients." He looked around their apartment and frowned. "Shit, Allison… We only have two months to find a new place."
"Jimmy's looking," she responded with a grin. "I asked him to check out a few places for us this weekend."
"Doesn't he have a baby to take care of?" Greg asked with a frown.
Allison winked at him. "He's trying to stay away from Cuddy and the baby. Poor Brian's sick."
Greg cringed. "Ew. Sick baby. Lots of crying."
"Hence Jimmy scouting out some places for us."
"No… Apartments." She finished massaging his thigh and applied the ice pack again. "Did you want a house?"
Greg shrugged uncomfortably. "A kid ought to have a yard," he mumbled.
Allison smiled at him and brushed a kiss over his lips, grabbing a washcloth and wiping the sweat from the rest of his face. "We'll look tomorrow."
"Let's make Jim sit with his kid, though," Greg suggested with a smirk. "He should have to. I'll have to when our kid gets sick."
Allison laughed. "We're married," she said, grunting with effort as she managed to get onto the couch. "It's different." She sounded out-of-breath just from lifting herself to the couch, and Greg grinned at her.
"You're huge," he pointed out.
"Thanks," she drawled.
"Like… Goodyear Blimp huge."
"You could be a U-boat if you made the right noise," he offered, staying on the floor until the pain in his thigh lessened. "Can you make that noise?"
"Greg, I'm going to smack you. With your own cane." She rested her head on the back of the couch and let out a slow breath. "I didn't think I'd get this big," she admitted quietly.
"Allison, you're pregnant. You were bound to get fat."
"I've gained thirty pounds!" she exclaimed. "I'm starting to get a second chin! It's disturbing, okay?"
"Some women gain more weight with their first pregnancy. You know that." The pain in his thigh had finally subsided enough for him to sit by her side. "And hey… You'll work off all of the weight running around trying to catch the baby. So it's fine."
She groaned and rubbed her stomach. "I swear to God, it's just going to pop," she grumbled. "I'm so fat that my stomach is going to pop like an overfilled balloon."
Greg rolled his eyes and turned on the television. "You're not fat enough to pop yet."
"You're so damned nice to me."
He smirked and brushed a kiss over her lips. "Come on, Allison. You know you're the sexiest pregnant woman ever. Well… You're close to Cuddy. Her fun-bags were bigger, and sexiness is directly proportional to breast size."
"Yeah," Allison drawled, annoyed. "Because that's going to boost my self-esteem." She scooted to the edge of the couch and tried to push off of it, which was a sight that Greg loved to see. It was hilarious.
"Don't hurt yourself, now," he teased.
"Shut up," she grunted, finally pushing herself off with enough force to stand. "I'm getting ice cream."
"That's not going to help with your waist size," he pointed out.
"The baby wants it," she snapped.
He snorted and went back to watching his show. The developments in his relationship with Allison were all good. Surprisingly. Oh, they had their spats; no doubt about that. They'd fought on their honeymoon, they'd fought when they'd gotten home, and they'd fought all through his physical therapy. They had gone days without speaking to each other; he would go to Wilson's and sleep there, annoyed every time the baby cried.
Cuddy had moved in with Wilson. They claimed it was for the baby, but Greg knew better. Every time he stayed there, Cuddy would bitch at him about how he needed to go home and work through his problems with his wife. Greg would snark at her and tell her to mother her own child… And return home to Allison by the end of the night. There was something about Allison that made him want to come home every night. And really, wasn't that what mattered?
The woman on his mind waddled her way back into the living room, a large bowl of ice cream and two spoons accompanying her. "I get a spoon?" Greg asked incredulously.
"No," Allison answered, sitting carefully. "They're both for me. I got two helpings; one for me, one for baby. I'm planning on using two spoons to make it more realistic."
He grinned and stole a spoon. "Thanks."
"No problem." She started on the strawberry ice cream herself, and Greg was careful not to steal too much. She'd get super bitchy if he took too much, and he knew this from experience. "What the hell are you watching?" she asked through a mouthful of ice cream.
He glanced at the screen and shrugged, taking another bite of ice cream and getting a glare. "What?" he asked irritably. "I haven't even taken that much."
"Why do you have the TV on if you don't even know what you're watching?"
"Because I like the bright, flashy colors. They amuse me. And if I watch them enough, I can have a seizure and sue."
Allison rolled her eyes and changed the channel.
"You put on a tearjerker and I push you down the steps."
She snorted and turned on a baseball game.
"Good girl." They watched the game in silence, eating the ice cream that Allison had gotten, and Greg grinned at her as she stared blankly at the screen. "You have no idea what's going on, do you?"
"Not a clue," she admitted, taking another bite of her ice cream. "But I do have strawberry ice cream. So I don't really care."
He snorted and changed the channel to a program about women giving birth. With a grin, he put his arm around her shoulders and watched her eat her ice cream, waiting for her to realize what he'd settled on watching. He wasn't disappointed when her eyes widened slightly.
"Turn this off," she muttered. "I already know it's going to hurt… I don't need to watch women scream about it. Besides, I'm getting an epidural."
"Those can be dangerous."
"I'll take the risk," she said dryly, reaching for the remote that he'd purposely set just out of her reach. "I don't … want … to … watch this…" she grunted, trying desperately to get the remote control.
Greg laughed and watched her. "It's like a kid reaching for something that's too high. Don't dislocate your shoulder now…"
"Fuck off," she grunted, giving up on the controller and sitting back, panting with effort. "I hate you."
"You love me." He glanced at the screen. "Look! It's like a melon being passed through a lemon!"
Allison groaned and shut her eyes. "You're an ass. I don't want to watch women having babies when I'm going to have one soon. I saw enough of it in med school." She glanced at the clock and sighed. "I have Lamaze," she told him. "Call Jim and tell him to meet us there, will you?" She maneuvered herself off of the couch once more and went to the bedroom to get her class supplies.
Greg rolled his eyes and dialed his friend's number. "Hey, Jimmy. Allison and I are getting ready to go to Lamaze. Meet us there? Yeah… It's at seven. Will you be able to make it or are you too far out scouting places for us?" He nodded to Allison when she came out with her bag and stood. "We'll see you there." He hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch, wrapping his arm around his wife's ever-growing waist and brushing a kiss over her lips. "Ready?"
She smiled at him and nodded and they were on their way.
"I still don't like that you wanted Jim here for this," House muttered as he drove them to the class. "I don't want him here for it."
"Greg, I want him with us to keep you calm and under control. You mocked the instructor during the first classes. We almost got kicked out. I need Jim to make sure you don't get us kicked out."
"I did not almost get us kicked out," he grumbled.
Allison sighed in exasperation and tossed a piece of hair out of her eyes. "You called the instructor a hippie hack, first of all. And then you called her a brainless new-age bitch. Then you threw your cane at her."
"She told me I was stressing you!" he exclaimed in defense. "I wasn't stressing you!"
"You were pissing me off!" she said with a laugh. "That counts as stressing me!"
"She accused me of not being supportive. I'm completely supportive."
"Yeah. It's just pouring out of your ears, Greg."
"Hey. I may not call you the most beautiful pregnant woman on the planet and I may mock the hell out of your fat ass, but I wake up at three in the morning when you want a Big Mac and I buy you ice cream and let you eat it for lunch," he snapped back. "I hold you when you start sobbing for no reason, even if we're at work, and I gripe very little about your pregnant woman hormones. I think I've been pretty damned supportive, thanks."
Allison's eyes widened and she was silent for a while as she watched her husband glare at the road in front of him. When he stopped at a red light, she unbuckled her seatbelt and threw herself at him. "I love you, Greg!" she sobbed, holding onto him.
He let out an 'oomph!' when she rammed her pregnant body into him and then patted her back. "Yeah, I know," he replied quietly, watching the light. "Now get back over there and put your damned seatbelt on before you suffocate me."