Part 51
"Looks like your night out agreed with you, Greg."
House scowled as he shut the door to Nolan's office and continued to scowl while he walked over and sat in the chair opposite the psychiatrist. Much as House respected Nolan, he didn't like him meddling around in his head. He disliked the smugness the man was exuding regarding his overnight with Cuddy. He wasn't sure why exactly but he knew it wasn't a male territorial response.
This is something else, he mused as he looked over the man in front of him.
The doctor was sitting back in the chair with his legs crossed and hands clasped atop the folder in his lap.
"Pleased with yourself?" House accused.
Nolan just smiled. "Of course. Don't you feel a sense of pleasure and professional accomplishment when you accurately diagnose a patient?"
He did but wasn't going to say that to Nolan. He reached for his usual response.
"That's what I have Cuddy for. The pleasure part. And the other one. She takes care of both."
Nolan's smile faded away and his gaze pinned House and unloaded a truth that House couldn't deny. It sent shame roiling through him.
"She's more than that to you."
Exposed. That's how Nolan made him feel and House didn't like the vulnerability it meant. This particular vulnerability was hers to know and understand, no one else's. Irritated, House replied with the only words he would speak on the subject.
"She is significantly more," he said, suspecting Nolan had a general idea of what she meant to him, but no idea how much she meant to him, which is why he probably should have expected the doctor's next question.
"Do you want to tell me?" Nolan asked with a cock of is head.
House fixed him with a glare.
"That's okay," Nolan said with a fluid, surrendering gesture of his hands. "But remember, Greg, I'm not an enemy. I'm here to help you."
Nolan said it with sincerity, and not for the first time. House believed him, just as he'd believed him every time before but talking wasn't something he did. He was learning with Cuddy but it wasn't easy and he trusted her implicitly.
House wasn't sure how far he trusted Nolan yet, which is why he had continued to deflect and evade the psychiatrist's attempts to get him to divulge his thoughts and feelings. To his credit, Nolan had shown extraordinary patience so far and appeared to be willing to run the gauntlet with him — the way Wilson and Cuddy did. Most didn't bother.
Despite his defensiveness, House nodded in acknowledgement, giving the doctor that much out of respect. Of course, Nolan took it and ran.
"Good," he said, his smile returning, "Then as you can imagine, I'm curious as to why you asked to see me."
House was suddenly resentful. He felt like a kid again, about to ask his parents permission for something he had every right to as a man: Time with the woman he loved.
He resented the need to ask even though he knew the structure was vital at this point in his recovery. He was an arrogant prick but not an idiot. He was well aware that he wasn't always the best judge of what was best for him, particularly now and probably hadn't been in a long time.
Except for Cuddy. That choice House didn't question. And neither did Nolan because he agreed to extending the pass after House found the words needed to make the request.
It was an understatement to say House was relieved. He breathed easier in the wake of Nolan's exuberant "absolutely" and thanked the man quicker than he'd thanked anyone in his life. It had come out on a heavy exhale.
The latter had caused Nolan to cock his head again. "Did you really think I'd say 'no'?"
At the question, House was assailed with unwelcome thoughts of his father. He was unaccustomed to his needs being considered when it came to men with power over him. It was probably a subliminal reason why working for Cuddy had been possible. She in no way reminded him of the tyrant who'd made his childhood a nightmare.
Surprisingly, he found himself nodding in answer to Nolan's query and watched the man process it. House had the distinct impression he'd given something away with his response, non-verbal though it was. Nolan didn't press him, though, and House was grateful. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about his father. Ever.
Feeling the need to leave before Nolan could change his mind, House pushed himself up from the chair, using his cane to balance himself once he was standing. He made it nearly to the door before the psychiatrist said something, a bit of advice House actually appreciated and didn't have to think about.
"Finnegan's makes an excellent chicken stew and has the best fresh rolls in town," Nolan said. "If you and Dr. Cuddy are up for a hearty meal and cozy atmosphere."
Not sure how to respond verbally, House just glanced back over his shoulder at the man and nodded once more before seeking out Cuddy. He found her in the common room, talking to one of the patients sitting on the piano bench again, watching the one patient in the room House had yet to diagnose — a woman who sat silently day in and out, functionally catatonic but no response to outside stimuli. A woman had visited her last weekend but there was no sign of her today.
Cuddy looked up when he neared and gave him a smile. "How'd it go?"
"You get your love slave for another night," he answered, keeping his tone light.
He took up a seat beside her. Unlike earlier, he turned to the keyboard and ran his fingers across the lid. The shine was long gone, leaving only weathered wood with the slightest of sheen. The result of time and neglect.
It's probably donated and out of tune, he mused then glanced up when something came into his line of vision. He focused and smiled. Dangling in front of his face, from Cuddy's fingers, was a key. A swell of something rushed over him unexpectedly.
Hope? Elation? Love?
House glanced over at her and found her smiling that smile he was coming to think of as the one she reserved solely for him. That was either a completely selfish thought or naively romantic. He didn't care which at the moment.
"Play for me?" she asked.
By way of answer, he closed his fingers around the key then leaned over and kissed her cheek. He set his cane atop the piano then put the key in the lock and turned it. The lid hinges made on the slightest squeak as he lifted and laid it back to expose the black and white keys. He ghosted his fingers over them reverently. It had only been two weeks but he missed music.
"Any requests?"
At his question, she turned to face the keyboard, too. "Whatever you'd like."
He wasn't sure what he wanted to play, so he just placed his hands solidly on the keys and went through a series of warm up notes that quickly evolved into an impromptu melody. Just the motion of playing and the sounds, not as horribly out of tune as he'd feared, eased some of the internal tension that hadn't budged all day.
"Beautiful."
The softness of Cuddy's voice prompted him to look at her. She was not looking at his hands but him. Like earlier, her expression was one of fondness.
"It's nothing," he said. She smiled, "I like it."
He looked back to the keys and watched his hands continue to draw a random tune from the instrument.
"The esteemed Dr. Nolan recommended a place for supper, said they have fresh rolls."
She hummed and bumped her shoulder into his. "Are you asking me out on a date?"
She meant it in jest but House thought it a good idea. Here they could have one without worry of being seen by people who knew them.
"Sure," he said, running with it. He sought out her eyes again. "You'll have to pay, though. My wallet's locked up around here somewhere."
"And if we were to liberate it?" she suggested.
"Empty," he said honestly and then, because she would expect it, "Except for Wilson's credit card."
"Which would give away our secret," she rightfully surmised.
He leaned toward her, relishing playing their game here, in this place where he'd spend a few weeks more, without her. "And we can't have that," he whispered, but not too softly.
She shook her head, her smile coming conspiratorial. "No."
He raised an eyebrow then and cocked his head, feeling flirtatious. "So, still wanna go out with me, even though you'll be paying and driving, and doing pretty much all the guy stuff?"
"So long as you put out," she flirted back and his brain and every other part of him went wild with delight at her answer.
"Of course," he smirked. "I'm easy, remember?"
She laughed and his ears drank in the rich, throaty sound. It was perfection and ultimately put his whimsical composition to shame.
