Sorry for the long delay in getting the next chapter up but I'm American and was busy gorging myself on turkey and stuffing and all kinds of pretty intoxicating drinks in celebration of stealing the country from it's original inhabitants.
Anyhow, I'm back, and hopefully will wrap this story up before I leave for vacation on Saturday.
CHAPTER TEN
It was nearly noon by the time House rolled into work, still in the clothes he'd worn the night before. His hair stuck out in several places and his breath smelled like stale alcohol. The glare of the florescent lighting caused him to keep his sunglasses on. He had thought about not coming in. He wasn't going to call in sick, he just wasn't going to show up at all, not until he was damned well ready, but a constant flow of calls from Wilson and his team, beginning around ten, had forced him into the realization that if he didn't show up, someone was going to show up on his doorstep, and he couldn't think of a single person he wanted to see on his doorstep…well, there was one, but there was no way she'd come.
"Rough night?" Wilson caught him just before he reached his office.
"What gave it away?" House asked, turning into Wilson's office instead of proceeding to his own. He was not looking forward to facing her, not after last night.
"Well, it was either a really good night, or a really bad night, and based on your lack of post coital glow, I'd say it was a bad one."
"You are an astute man Dr. Wilson." House bowed his head and told Wilson the Crib Note version of the night before.
"Woah! Back up! You went out on a date with Cuddy? Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
"I just did." House reached over and took the Starbucks cup off Wilson's desk. He took a long, satisfying pull from it then put it back down in front of himself instead of Wilson.
"Help yourself," Wilson said pointlessly. "When did this happen?"
"Yesterday." House was barely monosyllabic so such a big word had worn him out. He took another chug of coffee then slouched back in the chair.
"You went out with her yesterday. When did you ask her out?"
"Yesterday," House said again.
Wilson looked at his sunken eyed friend. "You don't ask a woman out for that night. You should have asked her for this weekend."
"I didn't want to give her time to back out." It sounded stupid now, since backing out would have been far preferable to what happened.
"So? What happened?" Wilson was as eager as a schoolgirl for all the nasty details.
"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."
"You're not a gentleman House." Wilson was positively giddy.
"If I tell you, I'll have to kill you."
"It's okay. I've got nothing to live for right now." Wilson was mostly joking.
"I'll tell you if you promise, in writing, to do my clinic duty for a week." House grabbed the notepad neatly placed in the corner of Wilson's desk and began to write out the contract. When he was done he slid it over to Wilson for signature.
Wilson read it over, trusting House as much as House trusted him, then scribbled his name on the line House had dashed across the bottom of the page. "Now spill."
"We made out in my car," House said, putting a pretty face on the ugly truth.
"And?" Wilson wanted more. He wanted details. He wanted descriptions that would rival the most graphic of romance novels.
"And I think I'm in love with her," House said rather profoundly.
"Yeah, but what happened?" That was old news.
"I profess my love for the woman we've been salivating over for years and that's all the reaction I get?" House was sourly disappointed. He thought Wilson the romantic would give him more than that.
"House, you're the only one who didn't know you were in love with her. So, kudos for catching up." Wilson spun his index finger around in the air in a celebratory circle. "Now tell me what happened after the making out."
"I took her home." A bold faced lie, but one that didn't change things.
"That's it?"
"That's it." House drained the coffee cup and aimed it toward the trash can. With one toss it landed squarely in the small bin.
"Then why do you look like you spent the night wrestling a serpent?"
The truth was that House had spent the night wrestling a serpent, the one in his pants. "She likes it rough."
"But you said all you did was drop her off at home."
"Ah, you caught me." House was now fumbling with Wilson's pen, spinning it round and round on the desk like a miniature game of spin the bottle.
"Are you trying, in your oh so subtle way to tell me that you don't want to talk about it?"
"Are you actually taking a hint?"
Wilson changed the subject. He talked about the movie he saw last night, and about the menu selection today and what he planned on getting for lunch. He talked about this girl he met at the story last night. She was young and pretty, his favorite kind. He planned on meeting up with her for coffee on Sunday.
"Who's idea was it to meet on Sunday?"
"Hers? Why?" Wilson didn't see anything wrong with it.
"She didn't want to meet you on Friday or Saturday?"
"Said she was busy."
"She's lying. She just doesn't want to have to make an excuse not to meet you again this weekend if it goes badly."
"Really?" Wilson had never heard that one.
"Oh yeah. Face it; she's just not that into you."
"You haven't even met her."
"Don't have to. I've met you."
"You haven't seen Cuddy since last night?" Wilson couldn't help himself. He watched quietly as House got up and stormed out, then he went back to doing his job.
House stopped and stared through the glass into his office. A flood of emotions rushed over him. He was willing himself to raise his hand, to press it against the cool glass and push. He envisioned it in his mind long before he went through the motions.
He had expected to find her sitting there, perhaps ignoring him, or perhaps trying to make him talk about what happened. What he hadn't expected to find was nothing. She wasn't there. Her desk wasn't there either, or her computer, her paperwork, her chair. As a matter of fact, there was no sign that she had ever shared his office with him. His heart sunk.
Cuddy watched as Miguel and Doug positioned her desk carefully in front of the large rounded window. "Perfect." She smiled at the two young men approvingly. Miguel had been working for the hospital for a year and a half. Doug was new, but seemed like a hard worker. He had a record, and was on probation, but he had been open and honest about it and she had decided to give him a chance.
"Will there be anything else Dr. Cuddy?" Doug seemed almost in awe of her. He was determined that she would not regret hiring him to the point that he sometimes over did the enthusiasm. Today he seemed to have it under control.
"Yes. Thank you." She watched them exit, then stood in the center of her office, glad to be home, but she couldn't shake the sadness that tugged at her as she looked around and saw nothing but her own things.
There was no giant fuzzy tennis ball to force off the side of the desk with the pile of folders she placed very specifically for that purpose. There was no set of iPod speakers pointed toward her blasting annoying music as she tried to make calls. And no red coffee mug leaving rings on the front of important legal documents. She should be happy to have peace and quiet, but she missed him.
House made his way around his desk and sat down. It was still the same overpriced ergonomic chair he always sat in, but it wasn't as comfortable as it had been yesterday. He twisted his back until it cracked and that helped a little, but he still felt miserable. He wadded up a sticky note he'd left the night before and was about to toss it at her cleavage when he remembered her cleavage wasn't there. He dropped the small ball onto his desk then pushed it to the floor with his hand.
He picked up a pen and began flipping it between his fingers. Index finger then ring finger, index finger then ring finger… it fell to the desk. He cursed and left it there.
His coffee cup, which she'd put back on his desk (he had left it on something important looking on her desk) was empty. He tipped it upside down to make sure.
He got up and shuffled into the diagnostics meeting room attached to his office. Crap. They were all there.
"Dr. House?" Kutner looked up from a chart.
"Dr. Kutner?" House queried back.
"You're here." Kutner was surprised that's all.
"You're here." House shuffled over to the coffee maker and poured some of the brown liquid into his cup.
"If you're done mimicking Kutner, you might spare a moment for your patient." 13 always sounded like she was trying to be badass. House was not impressed. She tried too hard.
"Nah. All My Children starts in ten minutes." House took his coffee and headed back to his office.
"Why do you bother?" He heard Kutner say. Kutner was a good kid.
"Because it's his job." Hadley got up and stormed into his office.
"It's not Bianca's baby," House stated.
Hadley shook her head. "What?"
"Oh, I thought you wanted to talk to me about something important." House knew exactly what she wanted to talk to him about. He just liked yanking her chain.
"I do. Carly Peterson is barely breathing. Her throat is swollen, she still has a rash over three quarters of her body…"
"So she's improving." House was barely listening. He'd grabbed the file out of her hands and could read everything she was telling him in black and white, without the moral indignation that came with listening to her voice.
"Didn't you hear me House? She can't breath."
"You said she was barely breathing. When did that get upgraded to can't breath?"
Hadley fumed.
"Besides, she had the rash over 100% of her body yesterday, so 75% is an improvement. Or did you like the rash?" He finally looked up at her, and she didn't like the malicious look in his eyes. "Did the rash turn you on?"
His words, and the tone in which he spoke them worked. She turned and stormed out. He closed his eyes for a long moment, then got up and headed for Carly's room.
Cuddy got more work done in the fifteen minutes since she'd sat down at her desk in her office than she'd gotten done all day yesterday in House's office. She was burying herself in her work. She looked up at the clock when she heard the knock at the door. Dr. Morris was prompt as always.
"Hi Kat."
"Lisa." Caroline Morris was a tall, slender woman around Cuddy's age, give or take a couple years. She was married with three children, a lawyer husband, an SUV and a golden retriever. Her life was perfect. Cuddy hated her.
"I'm afraid I don't have good news." Dr. Morris was the head of Obstetrics and wanted to expand her staff by two Attendings and three Residents. She was also asking to expand her Intern pool by a dozen or so.
"I didn't expect you to." Caroline smiled her sickly sweet smile, her perfect white teeth gleamed at Cuddy accusingly.
"Was there something else you wanted then?" It was a careful tightrope Cuddy was walking. Caroline Morris was a powerful ally, not because she was the best doctor or had the longest tenure, but because she wasn't opposed to using every weapon in her arsenal to get what she wanted. Her beauty was lost on Cuddy and she knew it, but it wasn't lost on several members of the Board, who's support Cuddy needed in order to enforce her decisions.
"I wanted to give you this in person." Dr. Morris pulled a sheet of paper out of the folder she was carrying and handed it to her boss.
Cuddy tried very hard not to smile triumphantly as she read the letter of resignation. "Are you certain you want to leave?" Cuddy remained as professional as possible.
"You can't give me what I need. I've accepted a position at General. They are better equipped to meet my needs."
You needy bitch, Cuddy thought, biting away a grin. "When will you be leaving us?"
"I am a professional Dr. Cuddy. I am giving you the courtesy of two weeks notice."
Gee thanks, Cuddy said in her head. "That is very thoughtful Dr. Morris. Thank you. And good luck in your new position."
"I won't need it." Dr. Morris rose and floated out on a cloud of self importance.
"Bitch," Cuddy said, finally able to state her feelings out loud now that she was alone.
"You shouldn't talk about yourself that way…even if it is true."
Cuddy jumped three inches out of her chair at the sound of his voice.
"What do you want House?" She finally collected herself enough to ask him.
House stared at her for a long time. He had put far more into her words than she had intended. What did he want? What was he willing to allow himself to want? What could he admit to wanting without getting his heart destroyed?
"House, I'm busy." Cuddy was oblivious to his internal struggle. She couldn't hear the dialog going on inside his head. All she knew was that if she stood there looking at her like that for much longer she would start to cry.
"Did you take the red pen off my desk?" He made something up quickly to cover up the real reason he'd gone to see her.
"What red pen?" Cuddy was mentally scratching her head. What was he going on about?
"Forget it. I'll steal one of Wilson's." House turned and left as abruptly as he'd entered, leaving Cuddy to wonder why he'd really shown up in the first place.