You Could be Happy
Chapter 1: How It Started
Disclaimer: I own neither House MD nor You Could Be Happy by Snow Patrol (it's an awesome song though, listen to it!)
You could be happy
And I won't know
But you weren't happy the day I
Watched you go
Cuddy curled up in her bed, a solitary tear straggling down her cheek. She knew she had done the right thing…but where had it all gone wrong? She was so happy when it began…she thought she had finally gotten everything she wanted.
It was a Friday night like tonight. The wind tore through trees and shook her house. It was three am, but she could not sleep. Suddenly, she heard a knocking sound against her window.
She knew exactly who it was. It was the only person who would come to her house at three am. And it was the only person, strangely, who she didn't mind coming to her house at three am.
On one hand, she was reluctant to leave the warm cocoon of her bed, but on the other hand, her heart started beating like a trapped animal.
The knocking grew more insistent. He'll wake Rachel this way.
She heaved a sigh, and got up. She automatically ran a hand over herself, making sure that she was wearing her long pajamas. Briefly, though, she wondered what would happen if she were to be wearing her silk nightdress. She smirked.
The knocking was so hard now that she was afraid that he was going to break her window.
"What do you want, House?" She demanded, drawing back the curtains and lifting up the window just as he was drawing back his cane, ready to knock again.
"Took you long enough. Let me in, it's cold."
She rolled her eyes and shut the window again. She made sure she took her time opening the front door. He could wait.
"What do you want?" She asked again.
Without a word, he swooped down and kissed her. Unlike their previous kiss, there was no hesitation. She was startled, but she began to kiss him back after the initial shock wore off.
They broke apart.
"Go out with me." He said.
"You are asking me out at three in the morning?" She asked incredulously-- although, on second thought, it would be just like him.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said sarcastically. "I thought it was three in the afternoon. Silly me, I always get that am/pm thing mixed up. Go out with me." He didn't phrase it like a question, she knew, because his ego wouldn't let me hear a no.
"Um. Ok."
"Great. I'll pick you up at seven." He said, turning to leave. "And that's p.m., by the way."
And he left her standing there stunned at her door.
She spent the next day, Saturday, in a state of agitation. She arranged for a sitter. She tried to sit down and do paperwork, but she couldn't concentrate. She didn't even know what to wear! Where was House going to bring her? A monster truck rally? A stripper club? On the other hand, he could just as easily bring her to the most expensive restaurant in the city—although there was no way that he'd dress up for it. He'd delight in showing up in jeans.
Seven finally came. He was punctual, for once in his life. Cuddy wouldn't have put it past him to show up an hour late. He was wearing—what he always wears. Jeans, a crumpled dress shirt over a rock t-shirt, a coat—not his leather jacket, though, so it must be somewhere semi-decent.
Cuddy, after an hour's deliberation, had chosen an outfit that was a compromise between casual and formal—a white dress shirt with pearls, black pants, and a pair of Jimmy Choo's. Not that dissimilar to what she wore to work. She did go for a brighter shade of lipstick, though.
"I'm not riding on your motorcycle," was the first thing she said when she opened the door.
"And hello to you too." He said. "I thought it was all women's dream to ride on a motorcycle."
"Been there, done that," she said, smirking as she watched his eyes widen at the image of a motorcycle-riding Cuddy.
"I'll save that for my future fantasies. Meanwhile, I bought a new car for the occasion," he said, jingling the keys.
"WHAT?" She exclaimed, looking out to the driveway. "House, that's Wilson's car."
"Oh, right." He said. "By 'new' I meant crappy and old, and by 'bought', I meant borrowed."
She hoped that "borrowed" wasn't a euphemism for "stole". "Let me say goodbye to Rachel," she said, ignoring his eye-roll.
It wasn't a monster truck rally, nor a strip club (thank God). It was a cozy eatery with live jazz music. It was a bit awkward between them, since it was a setting and situation that neither of them had been in before. They talked about his cases, and general nothings. He drove her home at a respectable hour.
She put her hand on the handle of the car door. He seemed to have no intention of getting out. "Um. Thanks for tonight." She said.
"Yeah," he said.
"Do you want to come in?" she asked.
"I have to get Wilson's car back or he'll have an embolism," he said. "This car is like the wife he's never had."
"Okay." She said.
She hesitated, and then leaned across to kiss him on the cheek. Then she got out of the car and went home.
"Did you have a nice time?" her sitter asked, as Cuddy thanked her and paid.
"Yes, very nice," she mumbled. Well, it was a very nice time. That was the problem.
What happened? What happened to the man who swooped in during the wee hours of the morning and kissed her with such passion? He became like all the other failed dates she's had over the years.
House drove away. Well, that was a royal failure, he thought mockingly. He knew all along that he was incapable of dates and normalcy. But that's what Cuddy expected, and so he thought maybe it'd work. But of course, it didn't.
He was so depressed that he actually returned Wilson's car in a timely fashion. He had hoped to leave it in his driveway, get his bike and go to a bar and get drunk without Wilson noticing. Of course, that didn't happen.
"How was your date with Cuddy?" his annoying best friend said, opening the door. By his tone, he seemed to already know the answer.
"It was great. Awesome. Went without a hitch," House said bitterly.
"Come inside," Wilson said. When House didn't seemed so inclined, he added, "I have booze."
House deliberated. Free alcohol and psychoanalyzing, or going to a bar and possibly get a drunk-driving charge later? (He had no intention of ever getting on a bus ever again.) Free alcohol won.
"So what happened?" Wilson asked, handing him a glass of whiskey. He seemed to appreciate his friend's need for stronger alcohol.
"Nothing happened." House growled. "That's the damn problem."
"What, you expected to get laid on the first date?" Wilson said, brows furrowing.
"No!" House yelled. Then he calmed down. "Well, I mean, that would be nice. But I—I don't know what I expected. Not that. Not with Cuddy."
"Ah." Wilson nodded knowingly. "You had a perfectly respectable, normal date, and it sucked."
"Yes."
"Well," Wilson said slowly, "Maybe you aren't made for normal dates."
House rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Sigmund 'Jimmy' Freud. Tell me something I don't know."
"No, what I meant was, you shouldn't have normal dates with Cuddy. They make you both miserable. Your relationship should be—well, as unconventional as you both are."
"Huh," House said thoughtfully.
The next day, Cuddy decided to go in to work, even though it was a Sunday. She needed something to take her mind off House and her disappointment. She wasn't even sure what she was disappointed at—he had behaved perfectly. But maybe that was the problem. She didn't want House to behave perfectly. She didn't know what to do when he does.
She decided to take Rachel with her, since she was only planning to fill out some forms and leave early.
Rachel had thankfully fallen asleep during the car ride. She gently deposited her baby carrier on the couch, and then went to her desk where she could have a direct view of it.
She was soon settled into the gentle rhythm of paperwork. Not before long, it was broken by a certain someone.
"House!" She exclaimed, before clapping a hand over her mouth. She peered at Rachel; thankfully she was still asleep.
"Do over," he told her.
"How did you know I was here?" She whispered.
He pulled a thoughtful face. "Let's see…you weren't at home. You are a workaholic with no social life. I put the two together."
"Thanks," she said dryly. "What are you doing here?"
"I said do over," he said with exaggerated patience. "So let's go." He turned to leave.
"What about Rachel?" She hissed.
"Fine, bring the midget," he said. When she didn't move, he turned around and tapping his cane on the floor impatiently. "Unless you want to stay and have sex on your desk. I'm okay with that too."
She rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, House. Besides, Rachel's here."
"So? She won't remember," he said, grinning.
She wondered where he was taking her, but when they had gotten out of the hospital doors, he turned left instead of heading towards the parking lot. Soon, they were at the jogging park near the hospital.
"Here?" She asked.
"This is where I go to get away from you," he announced, hobbling over to a picnic table and sitting down.
"Uh. Okay," she frowned, sitting down too and depositing Rachel beside her. "Why did you bring me here, then?"
"Because I have a lot of other places to get away from you," he said. "I figured I could spare one."
"Thanks," she said dryly. However, she knew the truth: he had brought her here because this was a comfortable, familiar setting for both of them.
They spent the day basking in the rare February sun, watching the joggers and rocking Rachel (Cuddy rocked Rachel. House refused to touch her after the spit-up incident). It was easier for them to talk this time. He was sarcastic as always, but today it made her laugh. He told her about a patient that he had talked to in the same spot.
"You know," Cuddy teased, looking at joggers go by, "From looking at us, people'd think we're a family."
"Don't delude yourself, Cuddy," he said. "Nobody except you would believe that a crippled, unshaven drug addict look anything like a father." To illustrate his point, he took out his Vicodin and popped a pill. "I'm hungry," he added before she could reply.
Cuddy had the foresight to bring Rachel's bottle, and House probably had the foresight to bring food, but it would be out of character for him to do so. So they drove to the nearest hamburger joint.
Then they went back to the park. It got cold; she checked that Rachel was securely tucked in her blankets, and then leaned against House. After a moment's pause, he put an arm around her and drew her in close.
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