This chapter is bascially the same as when I first published it, but I wanted to make one change to make it consistent with what I wrote in Chapter 4. I'm going to publish chapter five after this, so you will get something new shortly. Thanks.
Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.
Things had been going fairly well with House staying at Wilson's apartment. Sure, there were the all-night cooking sessions, the need to repair and disinfect the toilet after the Labrador Retriever used it, House scaring away most of the neighbor's children at Halloween with the egg yolk-eyeball incident, and the food fight at Thanksgiving, but, all in all, it hadn't been that bad.
Wilson didn't know when he realized it. It must have been at one of those monthly departmental birthday parties. (They had decided a few years ago that since there were so many people in Oncology that rather than celebrating individual birthdays, they would have one party per month for everyone who had a birthday in that month. It saved money and kept everyone from becoming obese eating cake.) Anyway, it occurred to Wilson that House had his birthday in Mayfield. And not only had he had a birthday, he had had the big five-oh. There was no "Happy Birthday" or cake or presents or anything.
Now, as well as he knew House, the thought also occurred to Wilson that maybe House didn't think this was a bad thing. Even for someone who had a happy childhood with cake and presents and pony rides at every birthday, turning fifty could be traumatic. For someone with as crappy a childhood as House, whose only genuinely happy birthday was probably the day he turned eighteen and could tell his father to fuck off, he was probably not all that upset that the day passed without fanfare.
However, Wilson reasoned, birthdays weren't just about the person having one. They were about the people in their lives who loved them and wanted to celebrate with them. Okay, maybe that was a short list in House's case, but, still . . .
So, Wilson decided to plan a small gathering at his apartment. A very small gathering. Just himself, House, Cuddy and Rachael. He had considered inviting some of House's team, either past or present, but he thought House might not be ready just yet to interact with a bunch of people in a social setting. He was still seeing Doctor Nolan, and although he seemed to be somewhat better, Wilson didn't want to push it. Besides, these days it seemed like House's team changed weekly, and Wilson didn't know if it was a good idea to invite former team members. It would just be too complicated for what Wilson wanted, which was a low-stress birthday dinner. Luckily, it was going to be a Friday night, so at least Wilson wouldn't have to worry about keeping Cuddy out too late. He wasn't so sure about Rachael
Wilson didn't necessarily want to do a surprise party, but also didn't want House to disappear, either, so he decided not to tell him. He also knew that if House saw him making an elaborate dinner, House would get suspicious. So, he decided Chinese takeout was the best idea. Besides, he and House had celebrated many a Christmas with Chinese, so it might seem a little festive, at least. Plus, Wilson knew he could get something vegetarian for Cuddy.
Wilson also decided to have a cake made, again, because it would be obvious to House, and also because as much as Wilson loved to cook, he really wasn't much of a baker. He found that cooking could be very forgiving, and that many, if not most mistakes could be corrected in some way. Baking required careful measurements and if you did something wrong, you basically had to throw everything out and start over. Wilson had to be absolutely accurate with things like chemo dosages at work, so he didn't need to worry about precision when he was trying to relax at home.
The clerk at the bakery department in the gourmet store where he bought the cake gave him a strange look when Wilson told him what he wanted the cake to say, but when Wilson repeated it twice, the kid finally wrote it down. Wilson had also received a call from the bakery department manager, just to make sure it was correct. Wilson was his usual polite, charming self, telling them he appreciated their conscientiousness, but it actually irritated him to get questioned so much. He could have explained why he wanted the cake to say that, but he didn't want to get an additional bunch of questions about why he hadn't done the conventional thing. Besides, it was none of their damn business, anyway. Some days, it almost seemed to him that as House worked on becoming happier, Wilson got more and more crotchety.
Wilson had Cuddy arriving with Rachael and the cake at six-thirty, and he had also arranged for the food delivery at seven. He wanted to decorate the apartment a little, but House was usually home by five-thirty. Wilson called in a favor from a colleague in the Mid-West, who called House about a "consult" to keep him at the office. Sure, it was manipulative, but certainly a lot less so than some of the things that Wilson had done over the years.
Cuddy arrived on time and Wilson put the cake on the island in the kitchen. Rachael was a veteran at crawling by now and could get into a lot of things, and since Wilson hadn't childproofed his apartment, Cuddy brought a playpen and set it up with some of Rachael's toys. It could also double as a crib if Rachael fell asleep. It was getting near her bedtime. Of course, at the moment there was too much activity and too many things to look at for her to even consider sleeping. Cuddy just hoped she would crash eventually so that it would be easier to put Rachael in the car and take her home. Cuddy had changed Rachael into her pajamas in case that happened.
House pushed through the door at six forty-five. Wilson and Cuddy had both decided House would think it was lame if they shouted "surprise," so they didn't.
House had dropped his backpack and taken off his shoes by the door. He limped in and saw the banner and balloons, and Cuddy and Wilson waiting for him, with really stupid smiles on their faces.
"Wow, all this, and I don't even celebrate Hanukkah," House snarked as he looked around. "What the hell is going on?"
"We missed your fiftieth because you were at Mayfield, so we thought we'd celebrate this milestone instead," Wilson informed him.
"Oh, God." House groaned. "Will there at least be dinner involved?" House asked. "And possibly a cake?"
"Of course," Wilson replied.
"So, Dad, did you get me the Pokeman or the Bakugan cake?" House asked sarcastically.
"I thought you were more of a Superman kind of guy," Wilson answered, "what with your doctor's God-complex and all."
"Don't get all jealous just because the vast majority of my patients live," House responded.
"All fifty of them . . . a year," Wilson countered.
"Hey, hasn't anyone ever told you that it's quality rather than quantity?" House asked rhetorically.
"Enough!" Cuddy said, putting up her hands. "Happy birthday, House."
She went over, cupped one of his cheeks with her hand and kissed the other. It was by no means a quick peck, either. She lingered a good minute with her lips against the side of his face.
Wilson observed House close his eyes and lean into the kiss. Well, at least he finally got a little something for his birthday. Wilson knew if House opened his eyes and saw Wilson smiling, it would ruin it for him. Luckily the doorbell rang, so Wilson went and got the Chinese.
The apartment didn't have a dining room, so Wilson had set things up at the island in the kitchen. He quickly moved the cake to the far corner of the countertop as he put down the Chinese food next to the plates. He knew House would look at it eventually, but he wanted to wait as long as possible, just so he could avoid the sarcasm, if nothing else.
Wilson opened the cartons and put spoons in them.
House practically elbowed Cuddy out of the way to get to the food. Cuddy simply shook her head and smiled. Just as she sat down to eat, Rachael started crying in the living room.
"I'll get it," House said as he pushed himself up from the chair.
Wilson looked at Cuddy in disbelief.
House returned carrying Rachael in his left arm, balancing her on his hip. He sat back down in his chair and resumed eating as she sat on his left leg. She put her head on his shoulder, and he rubbed her back. She started to drift off to sleep.
Wilson ate his meal in quiet astonishment. He was not only amazed at what House was doing, he was also surprised that Cuddy was so nonchalant. Every few minutes, she would glance over at them, but, other than that, she seemed perfectly relaxed.
After they finished eating, Cuddy held out her arms to take Rachael from House.
"I'm not sure she's really asleep yet." House stated, despite the fact that it appeared Rachael was so relaxed and sleeping so soundly that she didn't have a bone in her body. "I'll keep her for a little bit longer, if that's okay."
"Fine with me," Cuddy said, obviously trying to suppress a smile and failing miserably.
Cuddy and Wilson cleaned up, putting the leftovers in the refrigerator and the dishes in the dishwasher.
It was time for the cake. Wilson braced himself for some serious snark.
He grabbed some candles from the top drawer and placed them in a cluster near the center of the cake. He lit them and put the cake on the island.
House looked carefully at the cake. "What the hell?"
"Today is six months after your fiftieth birthday," Wilson noted. "So, happy fifty and a half, House."
"No singing," House snarled. He leaned over and blew out the candles before anyone had the chance.
Wilson retrieved a cake server from one of the drawers and cut the cake. He gave the first piece to House, of course.
With all of House's movements, Rachael stirred. She opened her eyes and saw the cake. A devilish grin played across House's face. "How about some sugar before you go home with mommy, kid?"
"House," Cuddy warned.
That was all it took for House to pick up the fork, get a small bite and offer it to Rachael. Between the attraction of the garish color of the frosting and the smell of sugar, Rachael had the cake in her mouth before Cuddy could move across the kitchen to stop it.
"House!" Cuddy almost shouted this time.
Again, all this did was prompt House to offer another bite to Rachael, which she greedily took from the end of the fork.
"House, I told you to stop. Am I going to have to physically restrain you?" Cuddy asked angrily.
"Is that one of my birthday presents?" House asked in mock anticipation.
"You wish," Cuddy replied. She was holding out her arms for Rachael again. "Just give her to me."
"If I promise not to give her any more cake, can I keep holding her?" House asked. This time his tone was serious.
"Okay," Cuddy agreed. "But if you give her one more molecule, I'm leaving with her."
House nodded in agreement.
He took a couple of bites of his cake and pushed away from the island. "I'm going to sit in the living room," he stated to no one in particular, as he got up and left the room, still holding Rachael.
Wilson and Cuddy finished their cake and put their dishes in the dishwasher.
"What's the deal with House being so . . . involved with Rachael," Wilson asked.
"I'm not sure," Cuddy replied. "The last time I had her at the hospital with me, he almost made a point of ignoring her."
"That's sounds more like him." Wilson stated. "Maybe he's using her to deflect."
"What?" Cuddy asked.
"Well, if he puts all his attention on her, we're more likely to be misdirected toward her, too, and notice him less," Wilson said.
"Do we still make him that uncomfortable?" Cuddy asked sadly.
"I don't know that it's us," Wilson answered. "It may be the birthday thing. He hasn't opened up to me very much about his childhood, but, from what he has said, I'm guessing that, at best, his birthdays were ignored, and at worse, well, I don't I want to think about it."
"Was it that bad?" Cuddy asked.
"Who knows?" Wilson said. "I just know that I'm sorry we drugged him and I brought him that prick's funeral. And I hope he's talking to Nolan about it."
"Hey," House called from the living room," "Where's the coffee?"
"I'll put some on," Wilson called back.
"Doesn't he have insomnia?" Cuddy asked. "Should he be drinking coffee at nine at night?"
"First of all," Wilson explained, "It's better for his liver than bourbon. Second, this is decaf."
"Does House know that?" Cuddy asked.
"I'm not sure," Wilson confessed. "I didn't tell him, so I don't know what he assumes . . . "
Cuddy rolled her eyes. "I'll see you in the living room. Gift time."
Wilson winced a little at the reminder, as he got out cups, sugar and milk.
"Is she asleep again?" Cuddy asked as she entered the room.
"Yes," House answered. "Because I'm just that exciting."
"She doesn't fall asleep with just anyone," Cuddy observed. "She gets very agitated when she's around my mom."
"That's understandable," House replied. "Your mom has the same effect on me."
"What I meant was," Cuddy explained with exasperation, "there aren't that many people that she feels safe enough with to fall asleep in their arms."
"Let me guess," House said. "It's only you, Wilson, me and the appliance repair guy."
"Something like that," Cuddy answered with a smile.
Wilson came in carrying two cups of coffee. "Do you want some tea?" he asked Cuddy.
"No, I'm all set," she said. "House, if you're going to be drinking hot coffee, I'd better take her now."
House reluctantly handed Rachael over to her mother.
Wilson and House had a few sips of coffee. "House, here's a something for your birthday."
Wilson handed House small package. House quickly tore off the paper to reveal several game cartridges for his Playstation.
"I kept the receipt if you already have any of those," Wilson stated. "Or if they don't contain enough gratuitous violence and mayhem."
"Thank you, Judgmental Man," House responded.
"This is from Rachael," Cuddy said, handing him a small present.
It was a frame with a picture of House holding Rachael. House remembered exactly when the picture was taken. It was just before Thanksgiving. House was asleep on the eames chair in his office, and Rachael was asleep on his chest.
"That's just adorable," Wilson said with a smirk. "Perfect for your desk at the office."
"Not a chance," House replied. "It was humiliating enough when my team caught me in this position in the first place. I'm sure as hell not going to remind them of it."
Although it would have been great if House had been willing to put the picture on his office desk, Cuddy hardly expected it. Even though he had become surprisingly open in many ways since he came back from Mayfield, he was still House. Heck, even if he shoved it in a drawer and only looked at it occasionally, that would be fine with Cuddy.
"This is from me," Cuddy said as she handed him a large, square, flat package.
House opened it carefully.
It was obviously a vinyl record, but Wilson couldn't read it from where he was sitting. "What is it?"
"It's a recording of Rachmaninoff with Arthur Rubenstein as the soloist. And it's autographed," House replied. "Where did you get this?"
"It's amazing what you can find on e-bay," Cuddy stated.
"Why, Doctor Cuddy," House stated, "I had no idea you were so familiar with the Interwebs. I have some other sites you might be interested in . . . google 'lesbians on the beach.' Just make sure you have a credit card ready. "
"I think I'll pass on that," Cuddy said, smiling.
"Thank you," House said. He was pretty sure this item didn't have a large group of people bidding on it, but the people who would be interested would really want it. So, she must have paid some serious money for it.
They talked for another half-hour. It was getting close to ten. "I have to get going," Cuddy stated.
"Tomorrow's Saturday," House remarked. "Surely the boss doesn't expect you to work then."
"Well, she said I didn't have to get in early," Cuddy replied. "But she does need me to work on approving department budgets."
"Those administrators can be real pains in the ass when it comes to paperwork," House noted.
As House and Cuddy had been talking, Wilson had made himself scarce. It sounded like he was cleaning the already immaculate kitchen.
Cuddy hesitated for a second before deciding to take the plunge. "I shouldn't have to be at work much later than four. Would you like to come over for dinner?"
It was House's turn to hesitate. "Well, Wilson's ex number two and her new boyfriend are taking him out to dinner. Since I would find that about as much fun as putting a nail through my hand, and since she hates my guts, I was planning on hanging out here by myself."
"Well," Cuddy replied, "if you'd prefer being alone . . . "
"No," House quickly interjected. "What time do you want me over?"
"Six would work," Cuddy responded.
"I'll be there," House said.
Wilson had just emerged from the kitchen. "Thanks for stopping by."
"Happy birthday, House," Cuddy said. She gave him a very brief kiss on the lips. Wilson offered to carry the folded-up playpen to her car, but she said she could manage.
House watched from the window as Cuddy skillfully maneuvered both the playpen into her car and the sleeping Rachael into her car seat. She got in, started the car and drove away.
"I'm beat," Wilson announced. "I'm going to bed."
"I'm going to stay up and check out some of my new games," House informed him.
Wilson smiled and headed to the bathroom and got ready for bed. As he pulled back the covers to climb into bed, he was surprised not to hear the familiar beeping of House's Playstation. He stopped and headed quietly back out into the hallway. It was dark and he wasn't visible to House. In the living room, House was looking at both the picture of Rachael and the album. Wilson smiled. Happy Birthday, House he thought as he went back to bed.
A/N: Anyone know why I picked Arthur Rubenstein as the pianist on the record Cuddy gave to House?