This one comes from a great prompt from the lovely and talented suzmum: What if House gave Cuddy her grandfather's book but a crane never collapsed in Trenton? You'll recognize the dialogue from the opening scene in Help Me (thank you marvelous LJ House transcript people). I go rogue from there. Decided to break this bad boy into two parts because it was getting long.
"Here," House said, shoving a crudely wrapped package into Cuddy's hands.
"What's this?" Then she put it up to her ear. "I don't hear ticking," she cracked.
"Just open it," he said, impatiently.
Cuddy opened the package and House watched proudly as her face lit up in amazed appreciation.
"My grandfather!" she said.
"No, it's just a book he wrote. Open it up."
She read the inscription: To Lisa and Lucas. Here's to a new chapter. Best, Greg.
"Seriously? You're giving this to us? And you're…calling me Lisa?"
"It's a big step you're taking," House said. "I wanted to congratulate you. I understand that's the adult thing to do."
Cuddy inspected him for a second.
"How did you know?"
"I've known for a while. The fact that you decided to cohabitate is not exactly a spoiler."
Cuddy blanched a bit, said nothing.
"Trouble in paradise?" he asked, hopefully.
"Nothing like that. It's just. . .forget it. Thanks for this gift. It's really incredible."
And that was when he noticed the ring on her finger.
"What's that?" he said, with a scowl.
"This is . . . actually, this is what I thought you were congratulating me for," she admitted.
His mouth dropped open. He kept staring at her ring, like it was about to sprout wings and breathe fire.
"Lucas proposed last night," Cuddy continued. "Nobody knows. That's why I was so confused. I mean, your intel is good. But not that good." She gave a nervous chuckle.
"You're marrying him?" his voice cracked a bit.
"It can't be that much of a surprise to you, House. Lucas and I have been together for a year."
He tried to collect himself.
"No. . .I . . . you're right. Of course. It's the logical next step."
The room was thick with tension, but she tried to make light of it.
"It's customary to congratulate someone when you hear news of their engagement," she teased.
"Congratulations," he said mechanically.
She looked at him. He looked totally lost. She had an urge to hug him, but that would probably be inappropriate.
"House, are you going to be okay with this?" she said, gently.
"Do I have any choice?"
"No," she sighed. "I suppose not."
"Then I'll be fine. Have a nice life."
He went to leave, but she called after him.
He turned.
She started to say something. Then stopped.
"Thanks again," she said finally. "For the book. It's the . . .best present I've ever gotten."
"Don't mention it," he said, limping quickly away.
######
"Close your eyes, babe," Lucas said, coming into the bedroom with one hand behind his back.
"What's that?" she said, wrinkling her nose.
"A present. Now close your eyes."
"Why are you giving me a present?"
"Because this is what life is going to be like from now on, babe. I'm a just an everyday present kinda guy. Now close your eyes, woman!"
She closed them.
He put something in her hands, clearly a stuffed animal of sorts.
"Open them!" he said proudly.
It was a teddy bear, wearing silk boxer shorts with hearts on them. The bear had cursive letters sewn onto his chest that read, "Bear chested."
"Get it?" Lucas said. "Bear chested. Not bare? That kind of thing kills me."
"Thanks. It's adorable," Cuddy said, putting it on the nightstand.
She went back to reading her book.
Lucas peered at the title: "Approach to the Acute Abdomen. Sounds like a laugh riot."
"Check the author," she said.
"Ernest Cuddy," he read. "Any relation?"
"My great grandfather."
"Wow. Huh. How'd you dig that old thing up?"
"It was a gift. Actually, it's for both of us."
"Whoever gave us that gift doesn't know me that well," Lucas chuckled.
"It's from House."
He had climbed into bed beside her. Now he sat up.
"House? That's his idea of an. . .engagement gift?"
"Not quite. It's for me, obviously. But I think he included you on the inscription as a peace-offering of sort."
"So he knows we're engaged?" Lucas said, tentatively.
"Yes."
"And he hasn't shown up drunk on our doorstep. So that's a plus. Although the night is young."
"Not funny."
"Who's joking?"
He peered at her.
"You look so hot reading that big book in your little nightie. I'm having naughty librarian fantasies."
"Have you ever actually been to a library?"
He turned toward her. "Anyway, my lovely bride to be, study time is over." He pulled the book out of her hands.
"Hey, I was reading that!" she said.
"The book will still be here tomorrow. My boner, on the other hand, is a temporary state."
"Ew," she said, vaguely.
"Let's both get bear-chested, shall we?" he said, diving for her.
#####
"So I understand congratulations are in order," Wilson said grimly, sitting down across from Cuddy in the cafeteria.
"Once more with feeling," she said.
"Hey, if you're happy, I'm happy," he said, raising a hand in protest.
"Then why do you look like you just sucked on a particularly sour lemon?"
"Because. . .House is my friend and this is hard on him."
She took a distracted bite of her sandwich.
"I know," she said. "How's he doing?"
"On a scale from 1 to 10, he's. . .miserable."
"It's sort of a double whammy isn't it? First you kick him out, then I get engaged."
"I didn't kick him out," Wilson protested.
"How else would you put it?"
"I . . .gently asked him to habitate elsewhere."
"In other words, you kicked him out."
Wilson gave a weary shrug.
"I guess."
"But he's okay from a mental health standpoint, right? No drugs. Still seeing that Nolan guy?"
"Yes to being off drugs. No to seeing that Nolan guy. House ditched him."
Cuddy looked up, concerned.
"Why?"
"He said he wasn't helping."
"But he was! Anyone can see it. House is getting better."
"He doesn't think so."
"Shit."
"Yeah, shit."
"Maybe I'll talk to him," Cuddy said.
"Oh yeah, he's really receptive to what you have to say right now."
"I know. He gave me this. . .insanely thoughtful gift and now he's barely talking to me."
"Just give him a little time to lick his wounds. He'll come around."
Cuddy put her thumb and forefinger to her brow for a second and gave a slightly self-deprecating chuckle.
"What does it say about me that the first thing I thought of when I accepted Lucas's proposal was, 'How is House going to react to this?'"
"I don't know," Wilson said, pointedly. "What does it say?"
"Not what you think it says," she said, hastily. "Just that I still care about him. Always have, always will."
"Well, that makes two of us," Wilson said. "So I'd say right now we're both on red alert."
######
A few days later, Cuddy swung by House's office.
"Can I buy you lunch?" she said.
He was sitting behind his desk, wearing a black tee-shirt and jeans, reviewing a patient file. His glasses were halfway down his nose.
He looked up, took the glasses off.
"No can do. Busy."
"Oh," she said. "How bout tomorrow then?"
"Busy then, too," he said.
"House, I wanted to thank you properly for the gift. It was. . .extraordinary."
"You don't need to buy me anything in return," he said. "This isn't a barter system. The gift came with no strings attached."
"I just want to express my appreciation."
"And now you've expressed it."
She studied his face for a second.
"I just want to make sure that my engagement doesn't affect our friendship."
"Trust me, it won't affect our friendship in the least," he said, edgily.
"Because you don't think we have a friendship," she said.
"I didn't say that," he muttered.
"But I got your message, loud and clear."
"I don't know what you want from me, Cuddy."
"I want you to be happy."
"Why do you care if I'm happy?"
"You know I do, House." She hesitated. "Wilson tells me you stopped seeing Nolan."
House sighed.
"Next time I want to get a message to you quickly, I'll be sure to tell Wilson in strict confidence."
"He's worried about you. So am I. Why'd you quit?"
House pursed his lips.
"Because it wasn't working."
"That's not true. You're sober. You're not hallucinating. You're doing really well!"
"Oh yeah. I'm livin' the dream."
"Why not stay in treatment just for a few more months? To get you through. . ."
"Your engagement?"
"I was going to say living on your own again."
He laughed grimly.
"Sure you were."
"I just want you to take care of yourself."
"I'm fine, Cuddy. I'd be even better if you left my office."
Annoyed, she started to leave. Then she stopped.
"If you're so angry with me, why'd you give me the book?" she said.
He looked up.
"What?"
"I said, if you don't care about me, if you don't want to be friends, why'd you give me the book?"
"It was collecting dust on my shelf. What else was I supposed to do with it?"
"But you found it. Presumably for me."
"In a more . . .optimistic time."
She put her hands on her hips.
"I have a theory about you. Wanna hear it?"
"Do I have a choice?"
He folded his arms, readying himself.
"My theory is you're great with the big gesture: My college desk. My grandfather's book. Both those things took am enormous amount of thought and effort to acquire. It's the little everyday stuff you can't seem to handle."
He narrowed his eyes.
"Wait a second. Rewind there. You knew that desk was from me?"
"Of course! Who else?"
"Then how come you never thanked me for it?"
"I guess. . .because you screwed up another one of the little things that day."
"That was the point of the desk. To apologize for acting like a jackass."
"You were a jackass that day," Cuddy agreed. "But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about after you got me the desk."
"After? You didn't say anything. It was like you thought the desk fairies had delivered it to you on unicorns."
"I went rushing to your office to thank you," Cuddy said.
"And since I wasn't there, you decided to leave me hanging for a year?"
"Oh, you were there all right."
"Cuddy, I'm lost."
"You were with some. . .bimbo."
"It's not nice to call Thirteen a bimbo," he cracked.
"Not Thirteen. Some …skanky prostitute-looking lady. She was standing about an inch away from you. It looked like you two were making. . .arrangements."
"I literally have no idea what you're talking about!" he said. And it struck him. "Oh shit."
"Yeah, oh shit."
"That's not what you think."
"So that woman wasn't a prostitute?"
"Yes, she was."
"And you didn't hire her?"
"Yes, I did."
"So, in fact, it's exactly what I think."
"But I just hired her to play a prank on Taub and Kutner! They were cashing in on my name for this online medical advice racket. . .Look, the details are irrelevant. The point is, I never slept with her!" (This was only technically true. "I still have time left on my meter," Dee Dee had reminded him, raising her eyebrows. He had locked the door and she had blown him under the desk.)
"I don't believe you," Cuddy said, her eyes flashing.
"So you've been holding a grudge for over a year over a . . . misunderstanding?"
"More like a moment of clarity."
"Oh yeah? What was so clear?"
"That anytime I made any sort of step toward you, you backed away. Sometimes intentionally. Sometimes subconsciously. But always, always backing away. So I gave up."
"And ran straight into the arms of Skippy the Wonder PI."
"At least he doesn't play games."
"This has never been a game for me."
"Please, House. That's all it's ever been."
He looked down, hurt.
"Of course you would think that."
"You make this grand romantic gesture, buy me this desk and then immediately fuck a prostitute? How was I supposed to feel?"
"I didn't fuck her!" he shouted.
"Keep your voice down," she said, glancing into the DDx room, which was empty. "Whatever happened between you two, it was just another move in the game, another way for you to sabotage whatever was happening between us. Again."
He made unnervingly direct eye contact with her.
"What if I told you it wasn't a game. That it has never been a game to me?" he said.
She looked back at him, for a moment, feeling her own resolve waver.
Don't get sucked in, Lisa. Don't get sucked in.
"I'd say. . I'm engaged to another man."
#####
A few days later, Cuddy was in the lobby when she saw a wiry young man, who was so jumpy and high strung, he looked like he was traversing the hospital on an imaginary pogo stick.
Speed freak?
"May I help you?" she said.
"I'm here to see your best doctor!" the man said.
"We have a free clinic," she said. "And a drug treatment program. It's through that door."
"No, no, no, pretty lady! I'm clean as a baby's conscience and healthy as a horse! This is strictly a social call."
"To whom?"
"I told you! The hospital's best doctor!"
She gave a cynical smile.
"Something tells me, you are not here to see the hospital's best doctor."
"House, House, baby!" he sang, Vanilla Ice style. "We're best friends!"
She couldn't help but to laugh.
"You know Dr. House?"
"Know him? Know him? Lady, we were roomies! Compadres! Best friends for life!"
It finally dawned on her.
"At Mayfield."
"The finest vacation resort on the East Coast!" the man said. "I'm Alvie." He thrust out his hand.
"I'm Dr. Cuddy."
"Dr. Lisa Cuddy," he said, circling her. "In the flesh. And what fine flesh it is."
"House told you about me?" she said.
"Told me about you? More like, moaned your name in his sleep, if you know what I mean!"
"I'm sure he didn't. . ."
"Our boy is smitten, with a capital S. You're the light of his life, fire of his loins, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera."
Cuddy laughed nervously.
"Is Dr. House expecting you?" she said.
"This is surprise visit. We both know how much my main man loves surprises."
"I don't think you know him as well as you think you do."
She was having a hard time imagining House ever interacting with this little ball of nervous energy.
"That was ironic, Dr. Lisa Cuddy! He hates surprises!" Alvie said. "But he'll love this one. He thought I was in Phoenix! He's going to be very happy to see me."
"His office is on the second—"
"I know where his office is! I told you, we're best friends!"
Alvie said. "See you later, Lisa Cuddy, Queen of Medicine."
She watched him lope away.
"What was that?" she said, under her breath.
A few minutes later, Alvie made his way to House's office.
"Ka-Pow!" he said, jumping in front of House.
House, who had been reading something on the computer, jumped a foot.
"Christ, Alvie. You scared the shit out of me."
"Sorry House. I got excited."
"What are you even doing here? You're supposed to be in Phoenix."
"There was a little situation involving my cousin and some unpaid debts to some less than reputable people. He advised that I stay away for a few more days."
"You're not staying on my couch."
"No worries, Doc. I've got a sweet hookup with a single lady."
House raised his eyebrows, impressed.
"Alvie, a girlfriend?"
"Um, actually my great aunt Yolanda. But her tamales will put you in a fetal position."
"Good for you."
"Speaking of tamales, I'm starved. Where are you taking me for lunch?"
"No can do. I already ate."
"So eat again, House! I came all the way from the Bronx!"
"I'm busy. Next time, they have this new-fangled invention called the telephone. Use it."
"Aww man," Alvie said, pouting. "This blows. I'm flying out to Phoenix next week. Our paths may never cross again."
"From your lips to god's ears."
"Hey!" he said, hurt.
House looked up at him, looked at his watch, then sighed.
"Tell you what? I'm free after work for drinks."
"We can put the happy in happy hour!"
"You put the happy in happy hour. I'll put the 'barely tolerating your company' in happy hour."
"It's a date, mate! Where to?"
"Sullivan's at 7 pm. I'll see you there."
"Why can't I just wait here? I'll be quiet as a church mouse. You'll never know I'm here!"
"Because All Alvie, All the Time is a bit too much for me to handle. 7 pm."
Alvie knew when to cut his losses.
"Don't be late, to our very important date!"
"Don't worry, Alvie. The faster it begins, the sooner it ends."
Once Alvie left, he bumped right smack into Cuddy again in the lobby.
"That was fast," she said.
"He already had lunch so we're meeting for drinks later. Which is for the best because candy is dandy but liquor is quicker!"
"So they say," Cuddy said.
"Hey," Alvie said, tugging on the sleeve of Cuddy's jacket. "I meant to ask you: Did you like the book?"
"What book?"
"I dunno. The medical book. How to Approach Cute Abdomens, or something like that."
"Approach to the Acute Abdomen?"
"Right," Alvie said. "That's what I said."
"How do you even know about that?"
"Know about it? I was the one who swiped it! They don't call me Sticky Fingers Alvie for nothing."
"House stole the book?"
"Well, technically yes. But it's a long story."
"I have time," Cuddy said, drolly.
"The book was his. Just sitting on his bookshelf minding its own business. And I may have accidentally sold the book to a consignment shop. And House blew a gasket. Oh man, was he pissed. So we tracked down the guy who bought it, right? And he was this really snooty professor type." He put on an affected, vaguely British sounding voice: "'Jeeves, go get the door while I steep my tea'—that sort of thing."
"Anyway, House offered to buy the book back: For two thousand bucks!"
Cuddy stared at him, astonished.
"He was willing two thousand dollars to buy the book back?"
"Yeah. I guess he really wanted you to have that book."
"So then what happened?"
"The asshole said no. Can you believe it? He was all, 'I'm afraid the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plane. And also, you can't have my book, suck-er!' That's when Alvie the Cat Burglar stepped in. I was cat quick. I was like a ninja." He made a few assorted ninja sounds. "Dude never had a chance. I gotta say, after I stole back that book, that was the nicest House has ever been to me." He grinned at her. "So…do you like it?"
"I … love it," Cuddy admitted.
"That must've made House happy," Alvie said, dreamily.
"It . . .did. But then unfortunately we, uh, had a falling out."
"Falling out?"
"No big deal. Just a temporary . . .difference of opinion, you could say."
"It can't be that bad," Alvie said, brightly. "Why else would he invite you to join us for drinks tonight?"
"He did not."
"Did so," Alvie said. "His exact words were, 'All Alvie all the time is a bit much to take. See if Dr. Cuddy can join us.'"
That actually did sound like House.
"Are you sure?"
"Positively definitely certifiably undeniably sure."
"I suppose I could. . ."
"Sullivan's at 7:15 pm, my Queen of Medicine. See you then!"
To be continued