This fic is a birthday gift for my girl suzmum. All fic writers should be lucky enough to have a reader like suzmum, whose loyalty, enthusiasm, and close, thoughtful reads are one of the main reasons I keep doing what I do. And although we've never physically met, I consider her to be a good friend. So happy birthday, lady. Hope you like your story. – atd
Cuddy was in her office with a couple of potential major donors—a wealthy elderly couple sitting on a rather fat trust fund—when her assistant poked her head in the room.
Cuddy scowled. Anita knew better than to disturb her when she was in the middle of her dog and pony show.
"Yes?" she said testily.
"Sorry to disturb you, Dr. Cuddy, but Rachel's school is on the line? They say it's important."
Damn.
Cuddy gave a sheepish smile.
"This will just take a second. Sorry," she said, picking up the line.
They smiled back generously. People tended to be very tolerant of kid-based interruptions.
"This is Dr. Lisa Cuddy," Cuddy said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Dr. Cuddy, it's Sarah Gibson over at Sunnyview Day School. I hate to bother you, but there's a strange man here to pick Rachel up."
Cuddy chuckled.
"That's not a strange man," she said. "Well, not for your purposes, at least. That's my boyfriend. I asked him to pick her up today. If you check, you'll see he's on the list of acceptable guardians."
"Rachel says she doesn't know him," Sarah said, hesitantly. "She's actually quite upset."
"Tall, unshaven, walks with a limp?" Cuddy said, puzzled.
"Short, bald, with a rather prominent, um, nose," Sarah said.
Cuddy started a bit.
"Chris Taub?" she said.
"I don't know. He was claiming to be Dr. Gregory House."
"Put him on the line," Cuddy said. She attempted a smile at the donors but it was unconvincing. She was fully furious at this point.
"This is, uh, Greg House," Taub said nervously into the phone.
"Taub, start explaining yourself—now!" Cuddy barked.
"Oh, uh, hi Dr. Cuddy," Taub said, gulping. "I know this must seem a little…out of the ordinary, but I can explain."
"I strongly doubt that."
"You see, House was in the middle of a breakthrough on the case so he asked me to pick up Rachel."
"And impersonate him?"
"He said that my name had to be on some sort of list?"
"The guardian list. Did you actually think that Rachel wasn't going to notice that you weren't House?" Cuddy said. "Or did you have candy and a van as a backup plan?"
"I, uh. . .I guess I didn't think that far," Taub admitted.
"Put Miss Gibson back on," Cuddy said.
"Do you want me to still drive Rachel home? Because I'd be more than happy to—"
"Put Miss Gibson back on the phone!" Cuddy demanded, more forcefully this time.
Taub emitted a little squeak. He handed the phone back to Sarah.
"I'll be there in 20 minutes," Cuddy said. "I'm very sorry about all of this."
"No. . .no problem at all. Obviously there was just some sort of misunderstanding."
"Oh, there was a misunderstanding alright," Cuddy said, setting her jaw. "A big one."
#####
The night before, while lying beside him in bed, Cuddy asked House if he would pick up Rachel from kindergarten.
"I have a case," House said. "Why not have the nanny do it?"
"Because that's not her job."
"Or because her Dodge Dart won't look good among the German status symbols on the carpool line?" he cracked.
Cuddy shot him an annoyed look.
"A year ago, I promised Rachel she would always see the face of someone she loved when she got out of school," she said. "That means me, my mother, Julia, and, yes, you."
"You underestimate Rachel's love for the nanny," House said.
Cuddy shook her head.
"Just kidding," House said. "She actually hates the nanny."
He eyed her again. Still not amused.
"Okay, I'll do it," he said. "But I'll have to buy a sidecar for my motorcycle."
She shot him another look.
"Kidding again," he said. "But seriously…this is new territory for me. How does it all work?"
"You drive up, she gets in the car. You strap her into the car seat the way I showed you. She talks about her day, nonstop, without coming up for air. You drop her home where the nanny is waiting. You kiss her goodbye and come back to work."
"You make it all sound so easy," House said, skeptically.
"It is," Cuddy said.
"What if she's talking about things I don't understand? Like her teachers or her classmates. . . or quantum physics?"
"Just let her blather. That's what I always do."
"Ah, ignoring a Cuddy woman. Now that's something I have experience with," he cracked.
"You're such a jerk!" Cuddy said. But she was being playful now.
"I meant your mother and Julia," he said, smirking. "Of course, I hang on your every lovely, perfect word."
"You better," she said. Then she raised her eyebrows. "So you'll definitely do it?"
"Absolutely," he said, wrapping her in a bear hug. He kissed her and, fully appeased, she kissed back.
"Now use your lovely perfect words to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you," he whispered.
######
Cuddy asked the donors to reschedule their meeting and they said they'd "get back to her." Translation: They were moving to the next hospital on the list. She had blown it.
House got home that night at about 7. He used his key to open the door but was met by the chain lock.
"Hey, it's me!" he yelled into the house. Cuddy came to the door, her arms folded.
"Why all the extra security?" he asked, concerned. "Was there a burglary in the neighborhood."
"I want you to leave," Cuddy said.
"What?"
"I know about your little stunt with Taub."
"Oh…" House said. "That."
"Yes, that. What were you thinking?"
"Taub is very responsible," House said. "Plus, he's Rachel's height. And at her reading comprehension level, too. I figured they'd get along famously."
"This isn't funny," Cuddy said.
"I know that. I'm sorry. I had a breakthrough in my case—it was Behcet's Disease," he said, checking to see if she was impressed. (She wasn't.) "So I sent Taub in my place."
"You upset Rachel. The school called me because she said a stranger had come to pick her up."
"Taub isn't a stranger. She met him that one time in the hospital, remember? He gave her a raspberry fruit roll-up."
"She didn't remember him. She's 3! She was crying because she was expecting you."
House looked at his feet.
"She was crying?" he said, feeling like shit. "I. . .didn't think. . ."
"No you never do."
"Let me in so I can talk to her," he said. "Apologize."
"No, House. I'm so furious right now I can't even look at you. Go away. Come back when you know I'll be asleep."
"It was stupid," House said. "I see that now. I won't do it again. I can do. . ."—but the door slammed in his face before he could utter the word "better."
#####
After midnight that night, there was a loud banging on Wilson's door.
He lay in bed, hoping the banging was in his dream or would just go away, but it continued.
There was little doubt as to who was behind the obnoxious cacophony, although House hadn't pulled this sort of stunt since he had moved in with Cuddy six months ago.
Wilson sighed, put on his robe and slippers and padded into the hallway.
"Wilson, open up!" House yelled.
Wilson could tell, just from his voice, that House was drunk.
He opened the door.
House practically fell into his entranceway. He smelled like a distillery and he had a rather large and swollen shiner on his eye.
"What the hell happened to you?" Wilson said.
"Cuddy kicked me out," House said.
"And then punched you?" Wilson asked.
"No, Dave punched me."
"Who's Dave?"
"My new friend. Well, former friend. Well, new drinking buddy, turned arch nemesis, turned guy who decked me," House slurred.
"Why'd he punch you?"
"I forget," House said. "I think he's a Republican. Or maybe I am. Whatever. We disagreed."
"You were looking for a fight," Wilson said, knowingly.
"Possibly."
"Why?"
"What part of 'Cuddy kicked me out' didn't you understand?"
"What? Permanently?" Wilson said.
"No," House said. "She told me to come back when she was asleep. Because awake Cuddy doesn't want to look at me."
"Neither does awake Wilson. Go home."
"I can't go home like this," House said, gesturing to his eye.
"Why not?"
"Because Cuddy thinks I suck as a father figure for Rachel. Black eyes from bar fights will not help my case."
Wilson squinted at his friend's swollen eye.
"I'd say that's more purple and red and oddly…yellow."
"You're not helping," House said.
"You can stay the night," Wilson said. "But you're going to have that beauty for a week. What's your plan? To Corey Hart it for the next 7 days?"
Wilson waited for House's reaction but it didn't come.
"Corey Hart wrote "I Wear My Sunglasses At Night," he explained, smiling proudly at his own joke.
"I know who Corey Hart is," House growled at him. "I figure at least by tomorrow the swelling will have gone down—on my eye and on our fight."
"Okay," Wilson said. "You can sleep in your old friend the guest room. And I'll get you some frozen peas."
"I'm not hungry," House said.
"For your eye!"
"I know.".
Just then, Wilson's phone rang.
"Wow," Wilson said, glancing at it. "I'm more popular at 1 a.m. than I am at 1 in the afternoon."
He answered the phone.
"Yeah, he's right here," he said, looking at House.
Realizing it was Cuddy, House shook his head.
"Put him on?" Wilson echoed.
House made the cut sign across his neck.
"He can't come to the phone," Wilson said. "He's asleep. . . Wake him up?"
House continued shaking his head, more vigorously now.
"I can't," Wilson said. "He's, um, passed out cold."
House could hear Cuddy's angry voice on the other end, although he couldn't quite make out what she was saying.
"Yes, he had a few drinks," Wilson said. "I wouldn't so much say passed out drunk as, um, very, very sleepy." He shrugged and made a face at House.
"Okay, I will…good night Cuddy." He hung up and said to House. "She wants you to call her in the morning."
"Very very sleepy?" House said. "What am I, Rachel? Surprised you didn't tell her I was sucking my binky."
"I don't want to know about it," Wilson said, holding up his hand. "Whoever sucks your binky is definitely between you and Cuddy."
He walked to the fridge, got out a bag of frozen peas and tossed them at House.
"Anyway, I'm going back to bed. Goodnight and good luck."
######
House didn't call Cuddy in the morning, as he promised he would.
In fact, he didn't see her all afternoon at work.
At around 4 pm, he spotted her out of the corner of his eye and began limping quickly in the opposite direction.
She noticed him and caught up easily.
"House!" she said, grabbing his arm.
He turned, heaved a sigh.
"Hi," he said.
"Why are you wearing sunglasses?" she demanded.
"These new skylights are really bothering me," House said, looking up.
"We don't have new skylights," Cuddy said, yanking off his glasses.
Her mouth dropped open.
"What did you do to yourself?"
"I didn't actually do this to myself," he said. "I mean, not literally at least."
Still pulled him out of the hall and into the stairwell.
"You got into a fight last night," she said.
"Got into a fight, picked a fight, it's all semantics."
"Why?"
"I was angry at myself," House said.
"For upsetting Rachel," Cuddy said, getting it.
"Yeah."
"So this is how you resolve that? By getting some guy to deck you in a bar?"
"I deserved it," House said. "I made her cry. You told her she'd see a loving face and instead she peered directly into the face of. . .Taub." He shuddered a bit.
"And that's why didn't you come home last night?"
"You said you didn't want to see me," House muttered.
"Actually, I told you to come home when I was asleep," Cuddy said.
"I was afraid if you saw me like this you might. . ."
"Might what?"
"Kick me out permanently."
"Why?"
"It's pretty fucking obvious, I'd say."
Cuddy shook her head.
"You're a wreck, you know that?"
She touched his eye. He flinched.
"It's ugly," she said. "Does it hurt?"
"It doesn't tickle," he said.
She continued to look at him, as though considering something.
"You should probably stay at Wilson's a few more days" she said, finally.
He looked back at her, shocked.
"It's not because I'm still mad," she said. "It's just that I don't want Rachel seeing you this way. It'll upset her."
"I understand," he said.
Cuddy nodded at House and he nodded back.
"Talk to you later?" she said, trying not to sound angry.
"Right," he said. "Yeah. Sure."
######
Two days later, Wilson all but cornered Cuddy in the hall.
"You gotta let him back home," he said. "He's miserable. He's making me miserable. "
"You're in no position to advocate for him," Cuddy said. "You're on my list, too."
"What did I do?"
"Harboring a known fugitive," Cuddy said. "And lying for him. He wasn't passed out. He was sitting on your couch with a steak on his eye."
"A bag of peas," Wilson said.
"Don't equivocate," Cuddy said.
"He was afraid that if you saw him in that state you'd think he wasn't father material."
"Well, he's not exactly building a compelling case for himself."
"But he wants to be a father figure," Wilson said. "That has to count for something, right?"
Cuddy squinted at him.
"How's his eye?"
"Still noticeable, but not painful to look at anymore."
She sighed.
"Alright, send him home," she said. "But the official story is that he was hit in the face by a ball, okay? Rachel doesn't need to know about bar fights just yet."
"You're a wonderful woman," Wilson said.
#######
Things sort of went back to the normal after that, although there was still tension between House and Cuddy. (He also objected to the lie about the ball. "You make it sound like I can't catch," he grumbled.)
A few days after he returned, House was brushing his teeth when he sensed a tiny presence beside him on the bath matt.
He looked down. Rachel was standing there, in her Dora the Explorer footie pajamas.
"Does mom make you brush your teeth too?" Rachel asked.
"Nope," House said. "This is all me. Chicks dig good breath. She does, however, make me make the bed."
"You guys make it messy!" Rachel said.
House's almost choked on his toothpaste. He quickly changed the subject: "So what's on your mind, tiny human?" he said, the toothbrush still jammed in his mouth.
"Miss Gibson said we're having Daddy and Me Day next Friday!" Rachel announced.
House spit the toothpaste into the sink, squinted at her.
"Yeah?" he said, cautiously.
"And I said I didn't have a daddy but I had a House!"
"You did?" House said, feeling proud.
"Yeah! And she said, everybody lives in a house. And I said, House is a person, silly."
"Way to set her straight, shorty."
"And she said we could bring father fingers to Daddy and Me Day!"
"Father figures," House corrected.
"So will you be my father finger?" Rachel asked.
"Figure, Rach. Not finger." He wiped his mouth with a towel. "What do you have to do on Daddy and Me Day?" he said.
"You get to see my cubby and where I take a nap. And you sing songs and you make paintings and you play games."
"Sing songs, huh?" House said.
"Yes!" Rachel said.
"I, uh, guess I could do that."
He was about to agree to this whole Daddy and Me thing when it occurred to him that maybe Cuddy didn't want him representing Rachel in any sort of paternal capacity.
"But you should probably ask your mommy first," he said.
"Okay!" Rachel said. And she scampered off.
She was back 10 minutes later, looking forlorn.
At this point, House had moved from brushing his teeth to shaving. (His shaver was set to what, in happier times, Cuddy had called the "motherfucking sex god" setting).
He flipped it off when he saw her.
"Mama says you're busy that day," she said.
He blinked.
"Did you say next Friday?" he said, trying to collect himself. "She's right. I'm so sorry, kiddo. I forgot. I have to do some important …medical stuff that day."
Rachel looked down at the floor.
"It's okay," she said softly. "They said if you don't have a father finger you can bring your mom."
"That's good, kid," House said, swallowing hard. "I'm sure she'll really like that."
######
A few days later, House and Wilson had lunch in the cafeteria.
"How's life on the old homefront?" Wilson asked. "Have things settled down between you and Cuddy?"
"Things are. . .fine," House said, cautiously.
"Fine meaning. . .?"
"Just that. Fine," House replied.
"Have you talked about Carpool Gate?"
"Yeah," House said, taking a distracted bite of his sandwich. "I told Cuddy that kind of thing would never happen again. She said I had no credibility."
"She does have a point."
"I said this whole parenting thing is trial and error," House said. "Making Rachel cry is an error I never want to repeat."
"Fair enough. And she bought that?"
"I think so."
"And yet things are merely…fine."
House shrugged.
"Some things haven't gone back to normal yet," he said.
"Meaning you two haven't had sex all week," Wilson said.
"It's our longest draught ever," House admitted. "She doesn't even want to cuddle!" Then he looked up in horror, realizing what he had just said. "Not that I want to cuddle…" he added, lowering his voice to a growl. "But you know how women are."
"Give her time…" Wilson said, with a knowing smile. "She'll come around—both on the cuddling front and the sex front."
"I hope so," House said.
He was about to bring up the Daddy and Me situation, but didn't want to come across like an even bigger pussy, when Wilson said, musingly:
"What do you know about this whole Daddy and Me thing at Rachel's school?"
House narrowed his eyes.
"What do you know about it?" he asked.
"Nothing. It's just that Cuddy asked me to attend."
House's mouth dropped open.
"She asked you to attend?"
"Yeah, apparently there's singing and dancing and lots of cramming yourself into a plastic chair built for people with 10-inch legs. I'm such a pushover. I said I'd do it."
House actually felt like he was going to hurl. He looked at Wilson, incredulously.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" Wilson said. "Don't tell me you wanted to attend Daddy and Me day?"
"Of course not!" House said, forcing himself to swallow down a bit of food. "Better you than me, pal. Knock yourself out."
Then he pushed his food away and got up quickly from his chair.
"I gotta go," he said.
And he limped away, as Wilson watched him curiously.
####
That night, Cuddy put on a babydoll nightgown and slid into bed next to House.
She took his hand, lifted it to her lips.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," he said, tensely.
"I miss you," she said. Then she guided his hand under the silk fabric of her gown, onto her stomach.
She gave a little shiver upon feeling his hand against her skin after so long. But much to her incredible surprise, he withdrew it.
"What's wrong?" she said.
"Nothing, I'm just. . .tired," he said, turning away from her.
"Tired?" she said.
"Yeah," he said, curling up defensively. "I'm allowed to be tired, aren't I?"
"Of course. . .I just thought that. . . nevermind."
She looked at his coiled back for a second, then sighed.
"Goodnight, House. . ."
"Goodnight," he said, coldly.
She lay still beside him, feeling sad and a bit unsettled. She thought she and House had gotten over all the drama of last week. Was it possible he really was just. . .tired? Highly unlikely. She'd never known him not to jump at the chance for sex. She closed her eyes, trying to shake off the disturbing thoughts, when House turned back on the light.
"Why did you ask Wilson to attend Daddy and Me Day?" he blurted out.
She sat up.
"How do you even know about that?"
"Wilson told me," House said. "But actually Rachel told me before that. She asked if I would attend and I told her to check with you first."
"And I made up some excuse for you, House. I did you a favor!"
"What if I wanted to go?" House said.
Cuddy did a doubletake.
"You want to attend Daddy and Me Day with Rachel?'
"Yeah…"
Now they were both sitting up, facing each other.
"Seriously?"
"Why is that so hard to believe?"
"Because you'll be surrounded by smiling fathers. And happy children. There will be actual singing. Sounds like hell on earth to you."
"Rachel asked me to go," House said. Then he looked down. "But you obviously feel like Wilson is the better choice."
"House," Cuddy said, feeling terrible.
She took both his hands in hers.
"Rachel and I haven't built a family with Wilson. We've built one with you."
"And yet he's the one going to Daddy and Me Day," House muttered. "Do you see the irony?"
"Of course I'd prefer it if you went. Of course I would. Rachel, too. She would be ecstatic. It just never occurred to me that. . ."
"You didn't even ask. You just assumed that I was going to disappoint her again."
Cuddy felt like she was going to cry.
"You're right," she said. "I shouldn't have assumed. I should've given you the benefit of the doubt. I would love it if you attended Daddy and Me Day with Rachel. Would you do that for us? Please?"
House was tempted to mope a bit more, hold out stubbornly, but it was hard when Cuddy was saying everything he longed to hear.
"Well, I'm not going with Wilson," he sniffed, finally. "This is not going to be some sort of My Two Gay Dads sort of thing."
"I will call Wilson first thing tomorrow and tell him he's been replaced," Cuddy said, smiling at him.
"Okay," House said, finally managing a smile back. "Good."
Cuddy wrinkled her nose.
"Are you actually going to sing?" she said.
"It just so happens that I have a lovely singing voice," House said, with mock indignation.
"Live and learn," Cuddy said. Then she looked at House adoringly. "So we're okay?"
"C'mere," he said, scooping her into his arms.
He softly kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then found her mouth.
"He's back," she whispered happily.
"He never left," he replied.
THE END