A/N: I'm not the only one out there who is irritated out of her brain with the way the current House/Cuddy/Lucas triangle has been played out on the show. So, being Zay, I'm going to do what I'm doing quite a lot in recent months (for me, anyway) and I'm going to write something that makes a little more sense to me – tension. Maybe it'll make sense to you too.
I'd usually say now that I don't write House often – but I've collected several fics now, so while it's not my main fandom (I live in Harry Potter land mostly) I'd be lying if I say I don't write much.
Please enjoy – and remember to review. You guys review way less than the Harry Potter land people do. You'd better catch up.
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Tension
By: Zayz
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The afternoon is gray and blustery, the temperature below freezing, bald patches of frozen grass peeking out from under the powdery snow. The calendar marks the day as February fourteenth, but it's the only thing that would consider it to be so.
The fourteenth falls on a Sunday. Of course, Cuddy is up and out of the house at her usual time – before the sun rises – and she has to work. But, as it's a Sunday, and it's Valentine's Day, she figures she'll nip out for an hour and have lunch with Lucas. He called yesterday morning and asked if she could make the reservation he'd made for one at a local restaurant. She said she could and she intends to make it.
Rachel's nanny requires a little coercing – namely double the salary to work on a day when she wants to be with her husband – but the arrangements are made, someone can cover for her at work for the hour she's gone, and flustered as she is, everything is set.
The morning flies by as it always does and the workload, hefty as it is, almost shoves the lunch plans out of her head. Luckily, though, Cuddy knows the way her brain works and made sure she wrote it on her To-Do list where she knew she'd see it. In the nick of time, she remembered her plans, left relevant documents in a neat pile on her desk, bundled up in her coat and ran to the restaurant to meet Lucas.
Of course, he's already there, waiting for her at a cozy table in the back. He smiles when he catches her eye, his expression bright and open, as it always is. She smiles back, that warm sensation like melting butter flooding through her stomach, and she squeezes through the various tables to the one saved for her.
"Hey," she says, putting her purse on the back of the chair and taking off her jacket. "Sorry, I'm a little late."
"And I'm a little early," says Lucas. "So I guess that makes us just about right."
He grins cheekily at her, making her chuckle softly, and the two kiss briefly before sitting down across from one another. Lucas's menu is already open in front of him.
"So I already know what I want," he says. "What about you?"
Cuddy scans the menu quickly. "Um…this chicken scampi looks nice," she says.
"Good. That'll go great with the bottle of wine I ordered for us to share," says Lucas, grinning, as a waiter appeared out of nowhere holding the wine. She smiles and takes a sip of hers; it is fresh and lovely and cool, hitting the spot and relaxing her like nothing else could have.
"This is good," she says.
"My favorite," says Lucas serenely.
The waiter returns now, and takes their orders. Cuddy orders the chicken scampi; Lucas orders the eggplant parmesan. This leaves the two sitting together at the table, cocooned in the pleasant buzz of conversation around them, content but slightly awkward.
"So…I'm curious," says Lucas to break the silence, not looking her in the eye as he lets his finger roam around the lip of his wine glass. "How long did your dad have heart problems?"
At this, Cuddy's head snaps up, expression bewildered. She blinks several times, attempting to process this remark, so out of the blue so soon on a Valentine's Day lunch.
"Excuse me?" she ends up saying.
"I was asking, how long did your dad have heart problems?" Lucas repeats, looking up only now, his clear gray-blue eyes giving nothing away. "I mean, I know you had to have known eventually, with his heart attacks and by-pass surgery…but I was wondering about the circumstances. You never told me."
An awkward pause.
"How do you know about my father?" Cuddy asks, her tone careful, hesitant.
"I know you aren't terribly close to your mom, and you call your sister every few months at best," says Lucas. "I wondered why you never mentioned your dad."
"You aren't answering my question," says Cuddy, eyes narrowing. "How do you know about my father?"
Lucas's gaze retreats back to the wine glass. For once, he actually looks embarrassed – his cheeks and the tips of his ears have a very slightly rosy.
"I know a guy," he says finally, sipping at the wine.
"You know a guy willing to go through confidential medical records?" Cuddy is in disbelief.
"I know a lot of guys," he says. "That's part of my job."
"But this isn't part of your job – I am not part of your job," she points out.
"Look, it's nothing personal," Lucas assures her. "I mean, I've got connections, and if I ever want to know something, I sometimes just…"
"What, invade their privacy?"
Cuddy isn't exactly angry, but the mood has certainly shifted at their table. At first, they were casual, relaxed. Now, she is hurt, a little hostile and he is on the defensive. A rift, a tear in the warm comfort of their atmosphere, has appeared; and neither is quite sure how to mend it.
Cuddy takes a sip of her own wine, the heat rising behind her face. Looking directly at his averted face, she says, "You could have asked."
Lucas looks up. "Sorry?"
"I said, you could have asked," says Cuddy. "You could have asked me about my father's heart problems and I would've told you."
"It wasn't like I planned it or anything," he says. "I mean, this guy wanted me to snoop in his girlfriend's medical records to see if she ever had an abortion, so I was already rooting through folders…I saw your last name, Cuddy, and I just…wanted to know."
"Then why didn't you go snoop some more? Why ask me?"
"Because I felt bad, and figured I should just come out and ask you." The clear, dreamy-murky quality of Lucas's eyes had not changed, and neither had his tone, similarly cool and unaffected. Despite supposedly feeling bad, he is as composed as ever, looking at her over his wine as though this really isn't a big deal. And, knowing his profession, Cuddy knew it probably isn't – and yet something still niggles in her at the mental image of Lucas flipping through the personal details of her father's medical records.
However, she sighs, and her eyes drop to her wine, sitting so tranquilly in her glass. She takes a sip and says, "Well, if you really want to know, we found out he had a heart problem when I was twenty-five. I was at home, on break from medical school, and he had a heart attack in the middle of dinner. The doctors gave him medication, and we thought he had taken it, but he hadn't. Two years later, he had another major heart attack and the surgeons had to give him triple by-pass surgery. He died from his last heart attack when I was twenty-eight."
Lucas nods, seeming to absorb this. "I see," he says evenly. "Were you close to him?"
"I think so." Cuddy's hand goes to her hair, tucking it and un-tucking it from behind her ear. "I was closer to him than my mother. After he died, she was depressed and I had nothing to say to her. I guess I thought it was her fault he didn't take the meds. I don't know. It was all a long time ago."
Lucas nods again, pondering this. He doesn't seem to have any response. Cuddy retreats to her wine glass once more, draining the last of the liquid and putting it back down on the tablecloth with a soft thud. Conversation buzzes from all around her, but her mouth is shut and so is Lucas's.
Mercifully, the waiter finally arrives with their food and both are given a merciful reprieve from yet another awkward silence. Lucas cuts into his steak and Cuddy rolls a small bundle of noodles onto her fork. Both chew, on their meal and on their conversation's current status, until Lucas swallows his bite and states, "You're mad at me."
"No, no," says Cuddy hastily, swallowing her spaghetti and shaking her head. "No. I'm not."
"You are," says Lucas, so achingly calm. "You're annoyed that I went through your dad's medical records. It's a sensitive topic for you – which I know because you keep touching your hair and you won't look at me – and you weren't ready to tell me yet. I get it."
"I'm not thrilled," she says, letting her fork wander through her plate. "I mean, I know you're a PI and everything, and that's how we met…but it's kind of weird that you'd run checks on me. Are there any other ones I should know about?"
"I do a credit check on everyone I meet, to see if they'll borrow money from me in the foreseeable future," says Lucas, this time a little flatly. "And I checked your permanent record too, just in case. And I saw your dad's medical records, your medical records…and I went through your desk once. But only once."
Cuddy took another bite of her spaghetti, a knot beginning to form in her stomach. She didn't care if he was looking through the documents of other people's lives…but the idea that he chose to look through hers, when he was supposed to trust her, worried her. It felt wrong. Maybe she was terrible with relationships, but was it right for a boyfriend – even a boyfriend who works as a PI – to check her medical and financial papers without her knowledge, much less permission?
"You know, the only other person who looks through my desk is House," remarks Cuddy with a smirk. "I didn't know you were also in the practice."
"I'm not," says Lucas with surprising vehemence. "It was once. And it's just what I do. It's not like you had anything to hide, anyway. What could I have stumbled upon that I wouldn't have found out later?"
"That's not the point…"
"So what is it?"
Their visions lock in – Cuddy's slate eyes against Lucas's pale ones – and the discomfort of the situation suddenly washes over them both with raw, brute force. In the course of their easy, happy relationship, Cuddy and Lucas have rarely argued, rarely disagreed or let anything get in the way of their smiles and kisses. This conversation marks the first in which the sun isn't shining, the winds are not quite breezy. They are in untested waters and both of them, man and woman, are rendered somewhat speechless.
"Never mind," Cuddy says at last, returning to her spaghetti. "It doesn't matter."
"Come on, of course it matters," says Lucas. "Tell me – what's going on?"
"I just…don't like the fact that you would run checks on me when you can just ask me whatever you want to know," she says simply, choosing to stare intently at the spaghetti she was rolling around her fork over and over again.
"Look, if House did something like this, I'm almost positive you wouldn't be reading him the riot act," Lucas points out, a definite flatness to his voice now.
"No – because he doesn't have a conscience and you do," says Cuddy steadily.
"Nice cover," says Lucas with a smirk, "but I know for a fact you wouldn't. He'd have some sketchy explanation for what he's doing and you'll take it, while it's really just curiosity, like it is with me, and he's not big enough to admit it."
"The sketchy explanation usually has some truth to it," she admits, biting at her lip before depositing more spaghetti into her mouth.
"You told me about the way he acted when you were in the process of adopting Rachel," says Lucas. "Spilling milk on your shirt, knocking over things, insulting you. Maybe I'm a little over-inquisitive, but he's downright obnoxious. I wouldn't do something like that to you just to screw with you."
"He was trying to show me I wasn't ready to be a mother," she mutters.
"Exactly – and that's bullshit, because you're a great mother," says Lucas. "He had some kind of selfish agenda to plant doubt in your mind and it worked. I can be a handful, I know, but I'm not mean-spirited. And I don't have hallucinations about having sex with you either…"
Lucas's voice trails off as he takes a sip of his drink, a little on edge, but Cuddy's head snaps right up, shocked.
"What was that last part?" demands Cuddy.
"Hmm?" Lucas looks at her with genuine innocence this time.
"What did you just say?" she asks again.
"I just said I'm not mean-spirited," says Lucas.
"No, after that."
Lucas ponders this. "Oh, you mean that I don't have hallucinations about you?"
"Yes, that." Cuddy's eyes flash, something angry now brewing somewhere in her abdomen.
"Well, it's true," says Lucas without a trace of apology in his voice. "I mean, I'm not exactly sure what kind of relationship you have with House, but I do know that it's not healthy. If he's having weird hallucinations about you while high on drugs, that's not a good sign. House can be a decent guy if he's in the mood, but he's also seriously messed-up. I don't know why you always excuse every stupid thing he does to you – you deserve someone who'll treat you well, instead of jerking you around because he needs a little entertainment."
He gestures to himself. "Maybe someone like me."
Cuddy blinks several times, as though the image before her will change, as though she'll wake up and realize he never said that. But the image doesn't change. He said it – the words are out in the open – and she finds her stomach twisting at his intent.
"I can't believe you are actually jealous of House," she says disapprovingly, trying to pass this off as something lighter than she actually thought.
"Me? Jealous of House?" Lucas appears convincingly incredulous, but she knows him well enough to look in just the right place and see that he's lying. "C'mon, Lisa, you of all people should know I'm not jealous of House."
"I don't know," she says heavily, sipping her drink. "You're basically trying to convince me that he's not a good man to have in my life, which you would do either because you are genuinely concerned for my well-being or because you think he's competition or something."
"Really." Lucas raises an eyebrow, trying and failing to make this appear nonchalant, cheeky. Somehow, he doesn't have as much of a guard when he's around her; he can't lie to her as well as he lies to everyone else.
"The first explanation would be the ideal one, but I can't be sure of that anymore," she says. "I mean, you're going out of your way to paint him black and punish him for being near me, but I know for a fact that you two got along when he was trying to spy on Wilson."
"How do you know that?"
"Because if he disliked you, he would've fired you and gotten another PI," says Cuddy lightly.
"I'm the best at my game," says Lucas. "House knew that."
"But House would settle if he thought you were an idiot," she points out. "He doesn't spend personal time with someone he feels is worthless. And as neither of you killed one another during that time, I can assume you didn't mind being around him either, making the case for you at least respecting him as a human being. Add in your behavior now – bad-mouthing him and destroying his precious TV, for goodness' sake – and you can see why I feel like there's an ulterior motive."
The two stare at each other for a moment, but then Lucas surprises Cuddy by grinning widely, his blue eyes bright with warmth.
"You know, Lisa, this is why I like you," he says genially. "You are smart as hell."
"That's not an answer to my accusation," she replies, her tone and smile wry enough to make this come off gently.
"I know," he says, still smiling. "My answer is this – smart as you are, this time you are wrong. I'm just looking out for you. House is bad news – which I would know because, as you pointed out, I've spent a lot of personal time with him – and I care too much about you to let you maintain your demented relationship with him."
"The concern is kind, Lucas, but I have to say, there are two things I must address before I let the matter drop," says Cuddy. "For one thing, I've spent a lot more personal time with House than you have. I know that he can be an ass. But I also know there's more to him than that, and I would trust him with almost anything."
"Almost," Lucas pounces.
"I trust no one with everything," says Cuddy steadily. "But House is as close as it gets. We've shared a lot over the years and while he frustrates me, there's a purpose to it. He was actually right when he said I wasn't ready for a baby. I was diving in without thinking too hard, more pleased I'd gotten my wish than anticipating an actual human being; and he made me think twice about what I was getting myself into. It was good for me. He is good for me."
"And the other thing?" Lucas's voice is as steady as Cuddy's, but there's a definite coolness to his delivery. It's almost as if she has insulted him.
"The other thing is that you are not as innocent as you think you are," she says. "Your argument against House is that he is too irresponsible for me. Well, you've had your share of irresponsible moments as well."
Lucas opens his mouth to object, but she cuts him off.
"I know you asked Chase for dirt on the team and on House," she says. "And in your punishment for House and Wilson for the apartment involved loosening House's hand-rail – which you know could have really harmed him, because he's crippled. I also haven't forgotten that day in the restaurant, during the medical conference. It was downright horrible of you to go on about something so private, cheapening it like that. And today, I've discovered that you snooped around in my personal information, which I can tell you honestly, no other boyfriend has ever done."
"How did you know about Chase and the hand-rail?" he asks, bemused, ignoring the rest.
"Never mind how I know," she says impatiently. "The fact is that I know. You aren't much better than House, Lucas, if irresponsibility is your only criteria."
The silence after this statement spirals rather horribly between them, as they turn to their lunch for lack of anything better to do. Lucas looks cool and unconcerned, almost like stone, which means he must be honestly disturbed by the conversation; Cuddy herself feels rather guilty, though not guilty enough to say anything to assuage the now-open wound between them. She's always been protective of House, in her own way; and hearing him so mercilessly put down, particularly in the aspect of his mental health, triggered some sort of reaction in her that she couldn't quite put her finger on.
Lunch finishes without another word, Lucas gesturing for the check and Cuddy letting him take care of this one, if that's what he wants. However, as they wait for the waitress to return with the bill, Lucas says rather casually, "I think you're over-reacting, Lisa."
"Do you?" she asks.
"Yes," he says. "You're looking too much into this. I have nothing against House. He did things I don't agree with and I've already done something about it. It's over. Okay?"
She doesn't believe him, but she nods and he puts his hand on hers, warm and reassuring as ever. She smiles at him and he smiles at her and for a moment, the rift is bridged, everything is okay, he never said anything that made her uncomfortable.
Of course, the moment passes and his words lay heavy on her twisting stomach as they leave. The two hold hands, but the air between them has changed. They have had their first disagreement, their first real argument, and it came down to House. It seems that everything about them somehow comes down to House. How long can a relationship based on a third person last? She supposes she's going to find out soon enough.
On paper, Lucas is perfect. He fits with her most of the time, light and funny, intelligent but grounded, manipulative but without being horrible, not the kind of person to leave her hanging. But there are days like these, where she isn't quite sure of the decision she has made, after facing his true colors.
"Happy Valentine's Day," he says softly, kissing her lips and letting go of her hand. They get into their separate cars and she watches Lucas drive away from her rearview mirror, backing out of his parking spot and gliding out of the parking lot, something oddly empty in her stomach, even though he had only just left her.
Was this what it felt like to fall apart – this doubt, this uncertainty? Maybe it was a little extreme, considering this so early in the relationship, just after their first fight, on Valentine's Day no less; but it's a question that comes up as she goes back inside, and she's always been the kind of person to believe things happen for a reason.
The familiar chaos of the hospital engulfs her the moment she gets there, but it feels good. Being busy helps her keep her mind away from thoughts that are messy, less than perfect. And she knows in her heart of hearts that right now, the best thing to do is forget, leave him out of sight, out of mind, until she is brave enough to really pretend nothing happened.
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A/N: Please review!!