Rediscovery
By Ellie
A/N1: Sorry it's been so long. First my muse wouldn't cooperate, and then Real Life got hectic and I didn't have any time to write. It's also approaching the end of the quarter and so I'll be busy with paperwork over the next few weeks. So the updates may be a bit further apart.
Chapter 9
Cuddy came outof the bathroom carrying her bags and glanced over at House who was still sitting on the couch. His thoughts were obviously someplace else as he fingered her thong. He looked over and saw her gaze fixed on the underwear in his hand. He grasped it tighter.
"Mine," he reminded her.
She just glared at him as she placed her bags down next to her and picked up the phone to call the hospital.
"Wilson, it's me," she said when he picked up the phone. "How did things go with Mueller?"
"Fine – for now," he said. "I think he's still looking for something to complain about, though."
"Little toad," Cuddy said under her breath.
"Is House still among the living?" he asked with humor in his voice.
She looked over to House who was watching her intently. He sensed that the conversation had turned to him and he raised his eyebrow at her.
"For now," she told Wilson.
"Can I talk to him?"
"You don't believe me?" Cuddy asked, amused, as she began to walk towards House to give him the phone.
"Well he did say that you had him tied up earlier," Wilson replied.
Cuddy laughed. "Here he is," she said and handed the phone to House's already outstretched hand.
"Wilson, man, you've gotta do something. You think she's a controlling bitch at the hospital? You haven't seen anything until she's invaded your home. She actually carries whips and chains around with her, and she's not afraid to use them." He looked over to Cuddy who was smiling evilly at him.
"Sounds like your Wet Dreams Diary. Stop complaining," Wilson told him. "Just remember that she does sign your paychecks, and she can make your life extremely difficult if she chooses. Also, I think that she really could kill you and get away with it."
"No doubt there," House said with a chuckle.
"How're things going … otherwise," Wilson asked hesitantly. House sighed in exasperation as he turned away from Cuddy.
"I'm fine."
"I know you were needing some alone time to deal with your decision about Stacy."
"I've dealt. I'm good," House said shortly.
"House …"
"Wilson, I'm fine," House firmly said again. Wilson was silent for a moment, obviously not believing him, but choosing not to fight him on it.
"All right," Wilson said finally. "Just … be careful."
"Good-bye, Mom," House snarked into the phone and hung up. He stared at it, wishing that he could somehow give Wilson a good thump on the head through the device.
"He's just worried about you," Cuddy said from behind him. He turned around to look at her.
"Yeah, well I'm a big boy, and he needs to get a life."
"He's just remembering what you were like the last time Stacy left. I have to admit I halfway expected you to be passed out from alcohol poisoning when I got here this morning."
"I'm so sorry to have disappointed you."
"Shut up. Obviously, I'm ecstatic that you didn't feel the need to destroy your liver even more than you're already doing, but you can't blame Wilson for worrying about you. You were a wreck after Stacy left, and he doesn't want to see you go through that again."
"God, you're just as bad as he is. I have a mother already, thank you very much. I don't need two more."
"If you acted older than twelve sometimes, then we might believe you."
House glared at her. "I will admit to going through a bit of a rough patch when Stacy left all those years ago." Cuddy snorted at this understatement. "But this time it's different," he insisted.
"Really?" Cuddy asked, not believing him.
"Yes, really. First of all, I told Stacy to leave this time. And I didn't do it out of anger. And, despite what Wilson thinks, I didn't do it out of fear of being vulnerable and hurt again. I did it because I honestly believe that we would never be happy together."
Cuddy stared at him in surprise. Wilson hadn't told her the details about the break-up, but she had assumed that Stacy had decided to try and make her marriage work. The thought that House had sent her away after spending the past five years pining for her had never crossed Cuddy's mind.
Cuddy looked away from him and nodded. House exhaled loudly and tossed the phone at her.
"I've got to take a leak," he told her as he headed toward the bathroom.
Cuddy's gaze followed him. She was inexplicably happy that House was the one to end the relationship with Stacy, but she quickly turned her thoughts away from those feelings. They weren't appropriate.
She suddenly realized that she didn't remember seeing him holding her underwear as he left the room. She headed towards the couch to see if he had accidentally left the thong there, but didn't see it. She searched under the cushions and was about to get down on the floor to see if it was under the couch when an amused voice interrupted her.
"Looking for this?" he asked. She looked up and saw him twirl the underwear around his finger. Her eyes narrowed.
"House, I'm not going to let you keep my underwear," she told him.
"If you want it, then come and get it," he said as he stuffed the thong down the front of his pants.
She just stared at him for a moment as House smirked at her. "I don't know why I'm surprised that you did that," she finally said. "Fine. Keep the damn underwear, but I will make you pay," she promised.
His smile got even bigger. "I'm looking forward to it."
She put the cushions back on the couch and sat down. House walked towards her until he was next to her. He prodded her with his cane. She looked up at him, her annoyance evident.
"Yes?" she asked.
"I'm hungry," he said a bit petulantly.
She looked at him in surprise. "Well then eat something."
"But I don't want to cook," he said hopefully. Cuddy looked at him in astonishment.
"You want me to make you supper after you've stolen my property?" she asked.
"First of all, you gave the thong to me. Secondly, thank you very much for offering to cook supper," he said appreciatively.
She sputtered a bit. "Excuse me?" she asked.
"Come on, Cuddy. I fed you lunch. I tended your wounds. I'm sheltering you from a horrible blizzard during what should be my vacation. I think that the least you could do is make me supper."
She rolled her eyes in frustration. "Let me get this straight. You don't want me feeling guilty unless it suits your nefarious purposes," she told him.
"Duh." He could see that she was wavering. "You told me, many moons ago, that you were a good cook, but I have never seen any proof of that statement. You could use this as an opportunity to finally prove it. That is, unless you were lying to me …" he let the sentence hang.
"Do you even have any real food in your kitchen?" she asked.
"I'm sure that there's enough in there for you to be able to scrounge something up."
Cuddy sighed and stood up. She had to admit that she was getting hungry herself, and she wasn't in the mood for more Chinese food. She also enjoyed cooking, but didn't often get a chance to do it. She worked long hours, and when she didn't it was difficult to work up enthusiasm to make something just for herself. She walked into House's kitchen and inspected his supplies. It was better stocked then she had thought it would be. He even had a bag of salad in the refrigerator.
House had followed her into the kitchen, and he smiled as he watched her inspect his cabinets. She turned to look at him when she had done a quick inventory.
"How do you feel about some pasta and a salad?" she asked.
"Of course you would try and give me the one healthy thing I've got in my kitchen," he complained. Cuddy smiled, knowing that he wasn't really serious.
"I'll take that as a yes," she said as she pulled a pot out and began to fill it with water. She put it on the stove and added salt to the water.
"You know that it will take longer to boil that way," he commented.
"Yes, but the spaghetti will taste better, and it's not like we're running late for something. I thought you wanted me to cook. Stop criticizing," she told him.
"I'm just making sure you know what you're doing. What are you going to use for a sauce? I don't think I have any jars of Ragu hidden anywhere."
"I'm making 'spaghetti aglio e olio'. There is no sauce."
"Garlic and oil spaghetti," he translated. "Well that takes having wild sex off of tonight's activities list. I refuse to do the wild thing with someone who has monster garlic breath."
"Damn," she said mockingly.
He watched her get the other ingredients ready. "Where did you learn to make it?" he asked. "It's not a recipe that the average American is familiar with."
"My grandmother was born in Naples. She taught me to cook when I was a kid."
He wrinkled his forehead as he thought about what little he knew about her family. "Cuddy," he said, breaking the silence, "normally I would break into your home to find out this kind of information, but since we're stuck at my place and I don't think you have any personal papers here for me to rifle through, I'm just going to have to bite the bullet and ask you. How does a nice Jewish girl get the last name 'Cuddy' and an Italian grandmother?"
She laughed. "It's not really that complicated. My grandfather, who was Irish, met my grandmother in Italy after the war. They got married and had my father. My father was not raised in any particular religion so when he married my mother he agreed to raise whatever kids they had Jewish."
"Well I can't wait to see what secrets 'Nonna' Cuddy taught you in the kitchen."
"Don't be too impressed," she told him. "This is quite possibly the easiest spaghetti recipe ever conceived. But it's quick and isn't messy."
House silently watched as she seasoned the olive oil. Cuddy could feel his gaze and it made her nervous. She went to a cabinet and pulled out a couple of plates and handed them to him.
"Make yourself useful and set the table," she ordered. House sighed heavily, but didn't say anything as he complied. He paused at the cabinet where he kept his glasses and looked over at Cuddy.
"You have a choice," he told her. "You can skip the painkillers in favor of some wine with your dinner or you can take the pills and have water." He paused for a moment as if considering something. "I guess you could do something completely out of character and take the pills and the wine, but I won't hold my breath."
"No, I like to actually follow directions when taking pain medications," she reminded him. She paused to contemplate her choices. "What kind of wine do you have?" she asked.
"A little bit of everything," he replied.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on her muscles. She was still sore, but it wasn't too bad, and a glass of wine sounded really good right now.
"I'll take some wine," she finally decided. House pulled out two wine glasses and sat them on the table. Cuddy finished up the pasta and put it on the table next to the salad. She sat down and watched as House took a bite of the pasta. He smiled appreciatively.
"Nonna Cuddy taught you well," he told her.
"Thank you," she said. A comfortable silence sprang up between them. House watched her eat out of the corner of his eye as he savored the food.
"Tell me," he asked after a while, "do you mention your cooking skills on your DesperateForADatedotcom website?"
Cuddy rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. "It mentions in my profile that I enjoy cooking," she told him.
"Good thinking," he told her. "Men dig chicks who can cook. Especially when they cook wearing nothing but naughty nighties. Trust me. Add that to your profile and the men will be coming out of the woodwork to date you."
"What makes you think that they aren't already?" she asked.
"Well you're still working sixty-plus hours a week," he told her. He paused to think for a moment. "I suppose you could be forgoing sleep in favor of hot sex. Lack of sleep might explain why you've been so cranky lately."
"Cranky?"
"Yes cranky." He stopped for a moment to pretend to consider it some more. "Somehow I don't think so, though. You don't have that post-coital glow about you."
"Post-coital glow? And you would know what that looks like?" she asked.
He gasped with wounded pride. "Hey, I know what a post-coital glow looks like. I leave the ladies glowing so much that …" he trailed off.
"So much that?" she prompted after a few seconds of silence.
"I don't know," he admitted. "The only metaphor that's coming to mind has to do with glowing so much that they don't need to turn on the headlights when they drive home afterwards, but it lacks poetry."
She giggled and he smiled at her amusement. After a moment, though, his expression became serious.
"So no one special?" he asked.
Cuddy fought the urge to look away as she answered. "No one special," she told him.
He nodded and finished eating his pasta.
Tbc
A/N2: Over 100 reviews! Thanks a lot. You guys rock. And thanks for the reviews for my little 'Sex Kills' missing scene ficlet. Please feed my addiction and review some more.