The Setup
By: LetThemEatCake0
Pairing: House/Cuddy
Rating: M (just in case)
A/N: This is my first "House" fanfic but I've been watching since day one. Please, review and let me know what you think! :D
"Dites moi qui vous aimez, et je vous di rai qui vous etes," House grumbled, his tone laced with sarcasm.
Cuddy, who had been completely absorbed by medical charts, glanced up, cutting her eyes to the left. She hadn't noticed him plop down in a chair in the clinic ten minutes previously.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"People are idiots, fooling themselves with that thing called love."
"Who are we talking about this time?" She sighed and closed the folder. "Cameron and Chase? Or Wilson and Amber?"
"All the idiots in the world who think love is the answer."
"Is there a reason you're quoting song lyrics?" She turned icy blue eyes to him, an eyebrow quirked. "It's not like you to be so trite."
"I'm tired, it's been a long day," he said. "Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be trolling the internet for babies?"
"I do that on my home computer," she retorted.
"You really should get into porn."
"I'd prefer you get into your lab coat and pull your weight in the clinic."
"That's so not gonna happen." He stood and limped to her side. "You should just accept reality and bow to the inevitable."
"And that would be?"
"You, me, that big chair behind your desk." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Sure. How about the twelfth of never?" she suggested with a smirk.
~*~
Lisa Cuddy was settled comfortably on her couch with a mug of cocoa, waiting impatiently for her latest guilty pleasure to start. She took a sip and heard scratching against the window. Standing, she followed the sound across the room. She peered outside and saw a long branch touching the glass. She shook her head and sighed.
"Boo."
"House!" she shrieked as he appeared in front of her. "You asshole! You scared the hell out of me!"
"Can I come in?"
"No."
"Aww, come on. Your parents won't be back until late and I promise to keep my hands to myself."
She glared at him and yanked the curtains closed. Turning, she marched back to the couch and sat down. Focusing her attention on the television, she settled in as the opening credits began to roll.
"That was incredibly rude," House said.
Cuddy jumped, her head whirling around. He stood behind her, resting his weight on his cane.
"The hell? How did you get in?" she demanded.
"Picked the lock," he shrugged and plopped down beside her. "True Blood? Seriously?"
"Shut up. If you tell anyone, they won't believe you."
"I have veys of mecking zem beleeve."
She rolled her eyes. "For Christ's sake, what do you want?"
"You don't believe in Christ. Your people killed him, remember?"
".." Glaring at him, she reached for her cocoa.
"Cocoa? How quaint."
"House!"
"I just thought it would be nice to spend some time together. We can hang out, become pals."
She faced him, looking into his eyes. "Are you higher than usual?"
"No, I'm actually more sober than usual."
"Then what do you really want? I'm not giving you drugs, money or sex."
"Then what the hell else are we gonna do?"
"I don't know what you're going to do. I am going to watch my show."
"You've got the DVR set. Let's do something else. You can watch it later."
"Let's don't and you leave so I can enjoy my show in peace."
"Counter your offer. Let's order in and watch your show."
"Counter your counter. Go away."
She turned and faced the television, rewinding the DVR.
"C'mon Cuddy," he said, elongating the 'y,' "Let's hang out."
"I'm not going to be your new Wilson, House. Suck it up and deal."
"Why not? I'm alone, you're alone, let's be lonely together."
"You sound like a bad country song."
"How would you know? You are into pretentious crap."
"Excuse me?"
"The opera, symphony, expensive wines and artsy fartsy food. Come on. What is that about?"
"I'm a grownup. I left Nirvana and holey jeans behind."
"But not all the time." He pointed an accusing finger. "I've seen you on Saturdays, rocking out to Smells Like Teen Spirit, wearing holey jeans."
"Are you spying on me?"
"It pays to know what goes on behind enemy lines."
"Get out. And stay away from my house."
"You get out." She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth, so he added, "With me."
Exasperated, she said, "It's been a long day and we both have to work tomorrow."
"That's a lame excuse."
"It's the truth."
"You're a doctor. You should remember late nights with no sleep, despite being a pretend doctor now."
"And you should remember I have the ability to make your life a living hell."
"I didn't order Ice Queen, I asked for Drunk Prom Date."
"Drunk Prom Date grew up and became Doctor Ice Queen, dean of medicine. Go home, curl up with your favorite porn and a bottle of lotion."
"That was way harsh," he whispered, feigning injury.
"Get used to it."
"You know what I find interesting?"
"No and I don't care."
"I find it interesting that you flaunt the girls in my face all day, every day, and when you've got the chance to have me, you balk. What's that about?"
Cuddy rolled her eyes. "I'm not flaunting anything for you."
"Then why do it?"
"Because I like other people looking. I really don't mind you looking either. It feeds my ego." She smirked at him.
House grinned. "You've been dressing for me. Sweet."
"Yeah, House, it's all for you."
"You don't have to be embarrassed. It'll be between you and me."
"Right."
"Are you going like that?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Don't be a stick in the mud. It'll be fun."
"Sure. I love it when a bunch of drunks grope my ass."
"I'm the only drunk who'll be groping your ass."
She smirked at the possessive growl and felt the first stirrings of hope. Squinting, she watches him carefully for any hint of deception. She thinks this might well be the first time he's ever been completely honest with her.
"Before I agree to anything, where would we be going?"
"I thought we'd start at this great little bar I know, have a little too much to drink and end up at my place for a lot of sweaty, raunchy sex."
"I'll go to the bar but we are both going home alone."
"You're such a stick in the mud."
"Where you're concerned, yes. I've had to become one because you ignore rules and ethics. If you cared about your patients even a little bit, I wouldn't have to be the killjoy."
"So, are you saying that you aren't a bore when I'm not involved?"
"Yeah, that's what I'm saying."
"Prove it."
"I'm not gonna be drawn into this. Save the head games for your team."
Cuddy stood and started to walk away, but House caught her wrist. Unable to meet her eyes, he said, "No games. I want you to come with me."
She looked down at him until he met her eyes briefly. Then she relaxed.
"Let me get changed."
"Nothing fancy. But feel free to wear the mini skirt." Cuddy rolled her eyes and started across the room. House called after her, "On second thought, wear that blue, low cut minidress thingy! You look so hot in that."
~*~
"I can't believe this. You look like an old spinster," he complained.
"Good. That's my insurance policy."
"Don't you know the girls all get prettier and closing time?"
"I can't say that I do. I was long gone by then."
He looked at her, a half-smile in his lips. "Gone by closing time. Does that mean you were tucked in bed, saying your prayers while clutching your teddy bear, Snuggles, and dreaming of a good man?"
"Nope."
"Were you riding a cowboy?"
"And a law professor, a cardiologist, a bartender, a rodeo clown, a—"
"Oh please. Your hoo hoo is tighter than your clothing. I bet you haven't had sex since you dumped that pimply history major boyfriend of yours your sophomore year of college."
"You are such a bastard." She punched him in the arm.
"Hey, driving here!"
"You're in a parking lot."
"Do you really want me to crash your shiny silver sports car?"
"If you do, I really will own your ass, capice?"
He concealed his amusement—and the mental image of Cuddy with a whip—and parked smoothly. He slapped the handicapped placard on the rearview mirror.
"Just in case."
She huffed and rolled her eyes. Opening the car door, she eased out and stood. She stepped back in surprise to find House standing in front of her. Acting gentlemanly. Hiding her surprise, she accepted his proffered arm.
~*~
Two hours and a lot of drinking later, both House and Cuddy were buzzing. She was giggling and he wasn't being rude, insulting or lewd. For the first time since they met, they were having fun. Together.
"We shoulda done this a looooong time ago," Cuddy said.
"Yeah? Who knew beneath all that straight lacing there was a fun person."
"I don't like being this way," she confided, "I like having fun. But we're doctors; it can't be fun and games all the time."
"Oh, why not? Who says we can't have fun with our patients?"
"They aren't there to have fun, House. We can try to use fun to make them feel better but we can't have fun at their expense."
"Have you wondered why I don't do nice?" He leaned forward, squinting to bring her into focus.
"Nope, I already know."
"Oh good. Let me tell you."
"Look, we're having fun. Don't drag work into our fun night."
"I thought you wanted to understand me."
"I already get you. I've never seen a person with more neurosis and complexities than you."
"No reason to be mean."
"I'm sorry. I just think you should learn to trust people. There are trustworthy people in the world. Wilson, Cameron—"
"You," he interrupted, his voice low.
"Obviously not. You still don't."
"Not true."
"So true. You're still teaching your minions I'm the Mistress of all Evil."
"Okay, that is true."
Cuddy glared at him.
"No, I mean the part about me encouraging the team to avoid you like the plague."
"So stop doing it."
"You can't expect too much at once. Baby steps."
"Hmm. House nice or House trusting. Can I have some time to consider my options?"
"Can I have a blow job while you're considering?"
"House!" She lobbed a wadded up napkin at him.
"Just thought you might need a little extra time to think."
"Not that much time."
The bartender announced last call and Cuddy sat up straight, alarmed. "Oh my God. House, do you know what time it is?"
"Yeah. But I just thought we'd tell everyone we were late because we fucked all night long."
He signaled for a last drink and downed the one on the table in one gulp. A suddenly sober Cuddy gathered her purse and coat, pulling her credit card from her wallet.
"I'll settle the tab. Stay here."
She returned to find him struggling to his feet. "Where are you going?"
"I gotta take a whiz, mom. That all right?"
Lowering her voice, she asked, "Do you need help getting back there?"
"No, but I'll need some help holding my—"
"I'll be right here." She shot him a pointed look, eyebrow quirked.
She was immune to his grin until his back was turned and he limped toward the men's room. When he didn't return ten minutes later, she made her way back to the restroom. She listened at the door, concerned by the silence. She knocked but got no response. Opening the door slightly, she poked her head in, eyes averted.
"House? Is everything all right?"
A soft groan answered her and she pushed open the door. At the sight of him leaning heavily against the wall, she rushed in.
"What's wrong? Where does it hurt?"
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
"For what?"
"I'm not—" he stopped, shaking his head. He turned, lurching forward, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm sorry."
She held him, caressing his back. "It's all right, House. Whatever it is. Let's go back to my house. We can talk if you want."
He lifted his head from the crook of her neck, his bloodshot eyes staring into hers. He lowered his head and kissed her, a light brushing of lips. They lingered, sharing breath, unsure. Afraid. Slowly, his hands slid to her waist and pulled his head away slightly. His eyes met hers and reflected the anxiety she felt.
"Let's go to your place."
"House," she sighed.
"We have to talk."
She nodded, accepting this truth. Pulling his arm around her shoulders, she wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him from the bar. Settling him in the car, she drove back to her house.
Fifteen minutes later, they were seated side by side on her couch. Both faced the blank television, hands in their laps, silent. Each was waiting for the other to initiate the conversation. Cuddy finally took a breath, preparing to speak, but he beat her to it.
"You deserve better." His voice is soft, his eyes lowered. "You always have."
"House," she began, touching his forearm, "You aren't the only one who has baggage."
"I don't just have baggage!" he shouted, startling her. "I'm a cripple! And I'm too old for you in here."
She took the hand that pointed at his chest, holding it tightly. "There are things you don't know about me, House. I just don't wield my pain as a sword and shield the way you do."
"You had a loving mommy and daddy. You were a smart, pretty girl. Bad things don't happen to girls like you." He struggled to conceal the bitterness he felt but it escaped against his will. "Girls like you have it all and they don't want men like me."
"You don't see much when it comes to me, do you?" She watched him carefully; so often his eyes betrayed him. She wondered if he knew that. "All you see is an attractive face and nice rack. Isn't it?"
He shrugged noncommittally.
"Isn't it?" she demanded shrilly. "Or have you finally come to realize there is more and that scares the hell out of you. Talk to me, House. Tell me what you want to say. For once, tell me what you mean!"
"After Joy," he shook his head, his voice breaking on her almost-child's name, "When I saw your pain, I just couldn't handle that too."
"Why?" she probed. She hated herself for her cruelty but she had to know what was going on in his head. She had to understand him and his intentions.
"Because it was supposed to be your happily ever after," he snapped. "People like you don't want or suffer."
"Don't give me that shit. It's a fucking cop out! Tell me what you mean, goddamnit!"
"I gotta go." He attempted to stand, lost his balance and fell back onto the couch. "Fuck! Goddamnit!"
She felt his pain and not for the first time. Cuddy knew what it was to have her body fail her. Perhaps it wasn't exactly the same but she understood the humiliation he felt. She felt it too lived with the despair of her body's inability to make life.
"It's okay." She touched his cheek with her free hand, her voice soothing.
"It's not okay!" he yelled. He pulled away, burying his face in his hands. "Nothing is. It never has been."
She frowned. "I don't understand."
"Of course you don't."
"I didn't have a perfect life. I don't know why you insist on pigeon-holing me into this category of perfection. Why, House?"
"Because."
"Wow, that's a really good reason. I'll have to try that one in the future."
"Don't go there."
"Why can't we? Why can't you trust me?"
"Because I'm Mulder and you're the Cigarette Smoking Man," he retorted.
"Stop that. Don't start insulting me to divert this into an argument. God knows why but I've trusted you countless times. Besides, you came to my house and asked me out. Then you wanted to talk. So talk. Or I'm going to bed. Alone."
He lifted his head, looking at her askance. "So, you're saying if we talk you won't be going to bed alone?"
"Never said that."
"Huh, not sure I like the sound of that."
"You're a man and you're House. You've already two strikes against you."
They shared a smile and he reached out, touching her cheek. She leaned into the warmth of his hand, lowering her eyes. His lips touched hers and she kissed him back. It was sweet and tender initially, each waiting for the other to pull away. Instead, he pulled her closer.
"House," she whispered breathlessly, resting her palm against the nape of his neck, "Your leg."
He stopped, pulling his hands from her waist. The agony of her perceived rejection was clearly visible in his eyes and she cupped his face in her hands.
"House, look at me."
He slowly raised his eyes to hers.
"This couch never has been conducive to these types of activities."
And for once, Greg House had no pithy comeback.
~*~
House awoke slowly, the sound of soft singing and the smell of coffee bringing him to consciousness more rapidly than he would prefer. The bed was soft. The sheets smelled good. A mixture of fabric softener and Cuddy.
Cuddy.
His eyes flew open and he sat up quickly, eyes darting around the room. It looked exactly as it had the last time he saw it. Only now he had slept there, made love with her, held her in his arms. Everything was so wonderfully familiar and new.
He lay in her bed, arms crossed behind his head, and closed his eyes while he pondered the previous evening's events. He remembered, with a great deal of satisfaction, the sight of her above him.
It really was a natural wonder to see Cuddy in ecstasy. Her cheeks flushed, her hair a wild mass of curls, sweat trickling slowly from her temple. He relished her soft pants and gasps, the guttural groans as her brain began to short circuit. And last, but certainly not least, the keening wail as she climaxed. Perhaps best of all were the soft whimpers as she nuzzled closer, lying prone as she struggled to catch her breath.
"Good morning," Cuddy murmured. His eyes shot open and saw her standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She was wearing his t-shirt, holding a mug of coffee between her hands. "Guess I don't have to ask what you're thinking."
He smirked, sparing his morning erection a single glance. "That coffee?"
"Uh huh."
He shot her a pointed look and she chuckled. Slowly, she entered the room and sashayed to his side of the bed. He sat up, reaching for the mug she held out. He took a sip, setting the mug on the table beside the bed. House turned to her, drinking her in.
"What?" Her tone is soft and tender, her own eyes seeking.
"You are beautiful." It is a revelation.
"Thank you."
"No, I don't mean aesthetically." She frowned, pulling away a fraction. "I mean—you are beautiful, but that's not what I'm talking about now."
Not sure whether to be insulted or not, she asked, "Then what are you saying?"
He shook his head and smiled. He laid a hand on the back of her head and pulled her close, meeting her lips for a tender kiss. She did not resist him because she wasn't sure she wanted to know more. Eventually, the unexplainable would explain. Answers were one thing House was never short of.
~End part one~