"Did you ever have sex with any of your lecturers?" She looked… displeased. "You can do that… the learning and the enjoying without it being a date," he said, tentatively. She rolled her eyes. "Take tonight for example, we…"
"House!" She interrupted him, a sort of flabbergasted realisation on her face. "Is that what these bets have been about? They're your version of dates?" Yep, her gast was definitely flabbered.
"Theeeyyy'rrreee my version of non-dates," he said carefully. "They just happen to meet your criteria for dates." He watched her go from pissed to steaming in two nanoseconds. Impressive. While he sat and admired what the sudden deep breath did to her chest, some deep-rooted self-defensive mechanism leapt to life and he proffered the chocolate mousse… then the puppy-dog eyes… The threat of serious, explosive physical violence hovered in the air... long enough for him to begin to sweat, then she huffed out the breath she had been holding and the steam stopped coming out of her ears.
"You're going to use chocolate against me? That's so underhanded," she said.
"You said all's fair in love and war."
"And which is this?"
"Yet to be decided?" he said. She hesitated. "You know it's perfectly acceptable for a woman to surrender. It is in fact, if used properly, a very effective tactic."
With a disgruntled look and a huff, she grabbed the mousse from him, sat down, cradled the bowl and took a spoonful. She sucked at the spoon thoughtfully while staring sightlessly at a picture on the wall opposite.
"This was you setting the mood, was it?" she said.
"What?" Was startled out of him.
"The budding lothario, setting the mood with the music. This is all about getting me to have sex with you?"
"No," he returned. Okay, she was getting close and sex certainly featured as a close next step but it wasn't his main aim… make that wasn't his only aim. There was nakedness as well.
"No?" No surprise she wasn't buying that, he was going to have to concede a little here.
"Not entirely. Although…"
"Stop wheedling, House," she interrupted him. "It's not going to happen. How did you think it was going to work?"
"Well, insert Tab A in Slot B – the usual..."
"Don't be stupid," she snapped.
"I'm not being stupid," he declared.
"You're deflecting which, at this particular juncture, is stupid," she insisted. Right. Okay. Maybe she had a point. The trouble was he was now in uncharted waters and he wasn't sure which direction he should go in. Flippancy was always such a good standby but he'd only just got her to 'surrender' by the skin of the mousse. There was only one reason she'd done that - she was expecting to 'talk' or, more to the point, him to talk. He wasn't ready for that, they weren't ready for that. More balancing was required. But how did he get this across to her without screwing everything up?
"I'm not stupid. Not completely. Some bits are missing. Anyway, it's surface deflecting – it's sort of a position holder."
"While you think of something suitably mocking, cruel and sarcastic?"
"I was going to go for frank and earnest…" She laughed. House felt a jolt of confusion. The last thing he had expected was Cuddy to laugh. This was not going to be good.
"Sorry," she waved a hand in apology, "Why? House we're fine as we are. You're right, this… non-date has been surprisingly… educational – fun, interesting, pleasant. By all means let us do it again sometime." Oookay, not entirely bad but not really what he was aiming for.
"Can we both end up nearly naked next time?"
"That's about as likely as… Oh, I don't know… you saying 'I love you'. To somebody else – not yourself. Just so we're clear," she said, smiling. This smiling thing really had him bewildered.
"You think so?" he asked, leaning towards her as he stretched towards the mousse with his spoon. She smacked his hand away and cuddled the bowl closer.
"Definitely," she insisted, with a smirk on her lips.
"Wanna bet?" That knocked the smirk off her face, to be replaced by shocked disbelief. Then she looked irritated as a thought occurred to her.
"I mean saying it when you mean it," she said, pointing her spoon at him "not lying through your teeth to win a bet."
"Okay," he said, nonchalantly.
"Okay? What? Oh, this is where we have sex so you can say it at the climatical moment," she hazarded, taking another mouthful of mousse.
"That works, too," he said, as maddeningly calmly as he could muster. He really needed to knock her thought processes out of the groove they were in with regard to his… up close and personal relationships. She was back to the amused disbelief look.
"Too…? I don't believe you'd even say it during sex."
"In the afterglow?" He suggested.
"No," she said, shaking her head for emphasis, still with that maddening smirk on her face.
"Wanna bet?"
"No!"
"So you're not certain?" He poked.
"I am certain but I'm not having sex with you," she insisted. At least the smirk had gone.
"You're calling me a liar and not allowing me to clear my name?"
"I'm calling you a manipulative bastard." At least that was honest… and irrefutable.
"There is that – takes one to know one," he paused, thinking. "I could call a hooker, then you can watch while I prove it?"
"No! Are you telling me you say 'I love you' to your hookers?"
"For practice? In case I ever need it," he lied.
"Then that's not saying it when you mean it. And, anyone who says 'I love you' during sex cannot be held to have meant it either, so I wouldn't accept that as proof positive."
"That's harsh, Cuddy. Very harsh. It could be meant – you know how verbal men are at that hormonal surging moment. " She gave him a get real look. Damn. "That's a no to the bet then?" he asked, half-heartedly.
"Yes, that's a NO." Trust Cuddy to be so adamant, couldn't she just be… easy for once?
"I thought you liked sex?" He tried a change of tack.
"The answer is still no." Bugger.
"I don't suppose…"
"No," she insisted. He opened his mouth. "NO. You're like a dog," she said, in exasperation.
"Loyal? Hairy? Long wet tongue? Humping your leg?"
"Persistently hopeful - which is odd because for most things you're like Eeyore – the morose donkey... otherwise known as an ass." She paused, then something unpleasant flashed across her face. "Is this you marking your territory? It's not as if you want the full family thing, is it? This is your true selfishness coming out and you're trying to reduce my socializing time to zero so no-one else can get a look in?"
Whoa, where had that come from? He'd interrupted a few of her dates… maybe it wasn't outside the bounds of possibilities but she'd never had that look on her face before - not for this. Exasperated, annoyed, irritated, resigned definitely but full on anger? Okay, no need to panic - just a simple misunderstanding based on an extrapolation of passed misdemeanours, easily resolved with a calm, rational response.
"Hey, you're the one who said you'd made sacrifices and didn't have time for other 'activities'. Besides, you said you'd enjoyed this evening?"
"But all this was you trying to get sex?" she asked, angrily. She put the bowl down so she could turn more fully towards him giving him the direct angry glare. Okay, not easily resolved.
"No, I can get sex any time I want." He went for outright denial – difficult to argue with that.
"Free sex!" Ouch. He supposed he deserved that. But still, words could hurt.
"No," he snapped. "Hard as this is for you to believe, but I can get that too, if I put my mind to it." Which he didn't do often, admittedly. Hookers were much less effort. He watched her carefully. He could tell that she was rethinking but she'd backed herself into a corner which was going to be difficult to get out off, gracefully. Especially, as she still had some residual anger and nothing to point it at except him. What would Wilson advise in this instance… he was successful at getting the girl just not in keeping them. Wilson would cave, but House couldn't see where he could cave to… wait, maybe…
"Whatever you think… that wasn't me, I didn't mean it, Wilson did it and ran away, it wasn't my fault – no wait, that should be it's all my fault, it will never happen again, I'm an idiot, it's the Vicodin talking, help I being manipulated by a yellow elephant with pink spots…I'll buy you Godiva chocolates…" She looked stunned, that was better than pissed, right? "I'm trying to channel Wilson here. I take it I'm not getting it right?" She looked thoroughly unimpressed.
"You'll buy?" she asked, sceptically. "I take it that's another figure of speech?"
"No, I'll buy… Wilson will pay." He tried a winning smile.
"I don't want anything from Wilson, even obliquely." Her eyes were boring into his. He could feel himself squirming internally under her scrutiny. He didn't know what to say or do especially when she was looking at him like that… expectantly. What did she want? His mind scrabbled for some sort of hint, he was obviously close to something… but he was clueless. He could see she was tense, her shoulders taut, waiting. He needed more time.
"Turn round," he said, suddenly.
"What!" Back to the stunned, erudite response – easy does it, House, don't startle the birdie.
"Turn round. So your back is to me." He made a spinning motion with his hand. She gave him a sceptical look.
"Why?" Not an outright rejection, he'd take that as a good sign.
"You're getting all stressy – for no good reason I might add. I can see your neck muscles knotting from here. If you don't want a headache turn round." She hesitated, and briefly worried her bottom lip with her teeth.
"What are you going to do?"
"Nothing from this angle." She kept glancing behind her as she slowly turned round. "Untrusting soul," he muttered.
"Always wise when Gregory House is asking you to turn your back to him, especially while offering something for free."
"Did I say it was free?"
"If you mention sex again I'll…" He put his hand on her shoulders and started massaging, which effectively shut her up.
"Offer me violence – again," he completed for her. "I know," he continued. She groaned or moaned he wasn't quite sure which. "I take it that's a good moan?"
"Yes," she conceded. "Another of your hidden talents? And do not give me a 'friends with benefits' spiel."
"See, I knew you'd want the whole family caboodle." He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "You'll be getting the pet next."
"She's too young for that, yet," she replied, slowly, apparently savouring his ministrations.
"But you've already started thinking about it right?"
"No!" she exclaimed, indignantly.
"Liar!"
"I've just mulled it over – it's not really practical." He gave a rare smile which she couldn't see but obviously felt. "Fine," she conceded, "I've thought about it," she waved her hand, smiling. She closed her eyes and let her head drop forward to give him better access to her neck. Her hair fell forward and he was presented with her nape… her very tempting nape. He bit his lip and contented himself with kneading her neck. She wouldn't let him get away with this stalling for long, and the longer he took the more she'd be thinking – which may or may not be dangerous.
"And the pre-school, and the school, and the college and her first boyfriend you shadchan you – you've got it all planned out."
"No," she said, but he could hear the smile in her voice even with her head down.
"Okay, I withdraw the boyfriend but the rest you've planned. Any chance she'll get her own input? She'll be running away before she's 14 just to introduce some spontaneity into her life."
"You think taking her to see Scheherazade will make a difference?" She turned round to face him and his hands dropped down to his sides.
"It might," he said, looking her in the eye.
"Once wouldn't be enough. She'd need… we'd both need… educating on a continuous basis. In other words commitment. I need someone reliable and dependable."
"Why?" he asked.
"Why?" she parroted.
"Yes, why? You've got nannies, babysitters, probably the National Guard lined up to take care of Rachel. Why do you need someone reliable?"
"Because Rachel, as you pointed out, will attach herself to anyone. She'll look to that person as a father figure, she'll have expectations, and she'll rely on them." He froze momentarily at the mention of father figure. He wasn't cut out to be anybody's father, maybe Cuddy was right and this wasn't a good idea. Cuddy deserved better than him but she'd had her chances and come up with a load of losers, so she was fair game but Rachel…
"So that's your compromise to Mr Perfect - everything is downgraded to Mr Boringly predictably, reliably, dependable?
"House… you've obviously been planning this. You made a bet you couldn't win, sent music, playing games – its all stems from that weekend in New York. Are you trying to tell me that me taking my clothes off has you wanting a relationship with me?"
"Well, it was a big incentive… your ass, I mean." She shook her head with a small exasperated smile.
"Balancing the score, you said. Did I reveal all my secrets?" she asked.
"I don't know if it was all…"
"House, it wouldn't matter if I said 'I loved you'." His heart plummeted, his throat tightened.
"Oh! But…"
"Love isn't enough, House. I can't depend on it, I can't rely on it. Despite what the songs say reality always wins and you are nothing but a realist, so you know this," she continued.
"Doesn't it give you something to work with?"
"I won't bring discord into Rachel's life. I can't make the same decisions I would have a few months ago. Apart from which, it seems extremely unlikely after all this time that we could now make a go of it, don't you think? House there'd have to be rules – you don't do rules. There'd have to be discretion – you don't do discretion. I do long hours the only free time I get would have to be shared with Rachel. Despite your attempts tonight, you don't do sharing. In order to get more of my time you'd have to help – you don't do helpful. Sometimes… sometimes you have wonderful moments but terrible hours, days, weeks. I don't need that at home. I don't want that at home. I need support not confrontation. I need simple not complicated. You have a very… poetic way of phrasing things, House, but I need consistency."
He felt a wave of hurt disappointment which he quickly masked. He nodded in acceptance and turned away. He poured himself a bourbon, swallowed a couple of Vicodin and walked over to his piano.
"House?" she called after him.
"It's okay, Cuddy. I got it. I don't make the team. Didn't work hard enough in practice, bad-mouthed the coach, not a team player. Flashes of brilliance don't make up for turning up late, doing no work and skipping out early."
"House, I…"
"Save me the 'let's be friends' speech, Cuddy. There's no halfway for us. It's all or nothing."
"Really? Tonight was… good, I might almost say fun. Are you saying you can only do this if you're trying to talk me into sex? And don't say something nasty just because you are feeling awkward, or sulking or whatever it is you are doing right now."
"I'm doing what I always do. Salut," he said, downing the bourbon.
"I don't want this to go back to you avoiding me like you did last time."
He tinkled 'you can't always get what you want' on the piano.
"But if you try sometimes, you get what you need'," she responded.
"Why are you still here?" he snapped. She rolled her eyes, picked up the mousse and walked over to sit next to him on the piano stool making him budge up. He was so confused he moved without thinking about it.
"We haven't done a differential on House relationships." He couldn't keep the deer in headlights look off his face. "That's what you've been doing isn't it?" she continued.
"What?" Great. Now he was giving the suave, articulate responses.
"You've been doing a differential on our relationship or lack there of, except you've been doing it by yourself – always error prone that method. You know you need a team to bounce ideas off. Did you not include Wilson?" He moved his head in a non-committal manner almost seesawing from side to side.
"Same as you did to me then. You talk to me, get some random piece of information, feed it into your differential then change your behaviour. Sorry, you don't like the word change, you reveal different aspects of your character in response to your analysis. You're just unfolding like a rose… or maybe peeling like an onion. No doubt you've asked Wilson similar ambiguous questions. What you seem to have forgotten is that other people do the same thing."
"You've been asking Wilson ambiguous questions?"
"Not yet. Of course, if we actually did something radical, like, pool our resources and did the ddx together we might progress more swiftly. The interesting thing is why haven't you initiated that? Naturally, the answer is you have. You just didn't do it in an obvious way. So we're back to the question, is this one of your games just for your entertainment or is there an undercurrent of serious intent?" She didn't seem to be asking him the question, more voicing her thought processes as she mused over the words and deeds of the evening. She savoured a spoonful of mousse. He gulped.
"So which is it?" he asked, finally, when she seemed to have been thinking about it for hours but was probably only about thirty seconds.
"I think you've balanced the seesaw so well, I don't know." She paused, thinking. "I don't really like the seesaw thing - the trouble is that the heavier one has more control and can bail more easily. I think I prefer a swing boat analogy."
"Swing boat?"
"Mmmm, one person doesn't have as much control. It doesn't have to be so finely balanced yet if both work together it's a really fun ride. Not only that, Rachel can go in the middle."
"There's no way I…" She pushed the last spoonful of mousse in his mouth.
"Don't say anything else stupid until you've thought about it. This game, possibly ending in sport… the practice session is now over. I'm going home. Thanks for sharing your musical knowledge – it was a fun idea, although the image of Taub and the Valkeries is going to be stuck in my head. I'm not going to be able to look him in the eye for weeks. Shame that's the image I'm left with."
"I'll take the apron off," he said, somewhat desperately.
"Not in front of Rachel," she blocked.
"Oh, now you don't want me naked - and using Poopypants as an excuse! She's hardly going to be traumatized at her age. I bet she's seen you naked."
"Jealous? Don't deflect. I need something more." She leaned over, cupped his jaw with her hand and kissed his cheek. She gathered up her things, grabbed hold of Rachel's carry cot and moved towards the door. All while his brain was still going what? What did that mean? What did she mean? Why did she do that?
"Oh and House…" He turned his head towards her, looking a little blankly. "You really do have a very well defined, muscular set of… biceps. Very, very…" She trailed off, smiled and shut the door.
House stared at the door. After a few moments he closed his mouth, and turned back to his piano. He looked at the empty bourbon glass. He picked up his bottles of pills and shook it. He looked down at himself. He scrabbled to the window but there was no sign of Cuddy's car. He sat down at his piano and played a few bars of 'You can't always get what you want'. What just happened there?
