CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lisa Cuddy closed her eyes as a flood of feelings rushed over her. The last time they'd kissed she had been at an emotional low. She had just lost Joy, the baby she was going to adopt, and she felt like the world had come crashing down around her.
More than that, she had felt so desperately alone, unsure if she was even fit to be loved by anyone, and then House showed up. He said some things to her that she no longer remembered, and then he kissed her.
It was exactly what she needed, exactly when she needed it. House did that sometimes. It was part of the reason she couldn't just hate him. When she most needed support, when she thought she would finally break, he would show up and in his own cruel way, pull her back onto her feet and give her the strength to get through whatever it was she needed to get through. Sometimes House was exactly what she needed, other times he was a jack ass. That night he had been both.
Just as the kiss began to melt away the doubt in her mind, as it began to thaw her heart to the possibility that she could indeed be loved, he pulled away and left. No explanation, no apology, just a quiet "Goodnight" as he walked out on her just when she was ready to let him back in.
And now he was kissing her again. Only this time she wasn't distraught. This time he wasn't just trying to make her feel better. She wasn't sure what his motives were this time.
House finally pulled away. It wasn't easy. He had considered himself a good kisser before he'd met her, but Cuddy kissed with her whole being. There was something so complete in the way she kissed him that he left each kiss feeling contented and full of something unfamiliar, something warm and soft that might have been true happiness if he didn't extinguish it with self defeat just as it started to burn brightly.
He watched her for a moment that held an eternity of regret. He could have had a life with her. Though they had never really talked about it, each pulling back when they got to close to discussing forever, he knew that if he'd asked her to marry him, she would have said yes. They pretended now that they hadn't been that close, hadn't gotten that serious, but they had.
"Why did you kiss me?" She was challenging him to face the truth he had been running from.
"To shut you up." He was still running. The truth terrified him. The truth was he needed her. He needed her like he needed his Vicodin or his best friend Wilson. He wouldn't be able to function, wouldn't be the man he was without her.
He never thanked her for all that she had done for him, for pulling him out of a depth that, at the time, he didn't want to get out of. She had saved his life in more ways than he deserved. He would be forever indebted to her, and would never attempt to repay the debt. He couldn't.
"That's what I thought." She was disappointed. She expected some snarky avoidance, but it still managed to disappoint her when she got it. Each time she gave him a chance she hoped that this time it would be different, that this time he would show signs of growth and maturity, but he always disappointed her instead.
The first disappointment came before they'd even met. She had called him to set up a meeting. She wanted to interview him for a report she was doing on medical ethics. She had heard about his insensitive approach to patient care as well as his success rate with his patients. Even as an Intern he was proving to be a better doctor than most of the Attendings at University Medical Center and she wanted to know what his secret was. He stood her up.
She showed persistence by setting up another meeting to which he did not attend. Then she showed creativity in her approach by discovering his schedule and managing to hunt him down during one of his few breaks. He knew the winding hospital corridors better than she did and managed to loose her, eating his Snickers bar in the morgue before returning to rounds.
Then she began to stalk him, or so he thought. She began showing up everywhere he went. The hospital cafeteria, outside his apartment, even to this little jazz club he went to on Friday nights to jam. Eventually he wasn't sure if she was really there or if he was just imagining her everywhere. But why would he do that?
He answered his own question as quickly as he'd asked it. She was gorgeous. She was smart (as he'd discovered when he broke into the school records room and found her transcripts) she was witty (their brief phone conversations had been peppered with easy banter) and she was certainly driven. Most underclassmen where afraid of big bad Gregory House, but Lisa Cuddy had sought him out. She wanted to get to know him. The thought terrified him.
"You look beautiful," he blurted, desperate for something to say and finding himself once again that awkward college boy who couldn't talk to a beautiful girl.
"Thank you." She actually blushed, or it could have been the cool winter air brushing across her cheeks. He watched her hands slip past his and sink between his tightly pressed thighs. He slowly put his arm around her shoulder and felt her lean against him. He smiled to himself as her head fell gently onto his shoulder.
They watched the Jets take the lead, neither of them really caring. They were each lost in their own moment. House was thinking only of the present and how it would come to an end much too soon. Cuddy, however, was lost in the past.
Their first date had been quite different than this one. Young Dr. Greg House had brought her flowers; a beautiful bouquet that he'd taken from a dead patients room, though he hadn't told her where he got them.
He wore a suit, ill fitting and obviously not his, but she appreciated the effort. He was determined to impress her. They were going to a hospital fundraiser, which was a huge deal for an ambitious young undergrad. Only her and one other student where attending. The other student, Billy Blake, was the son of the dean of medicine who was hosting the event.
Cuddy fell in love with House that night. She had learned enough about him by that time to know he hated these kinds of events, that he would rather drive hot nails through his fingers than be here, but he had come because she had asked him to take her. In truth he had gone because he hoped she'd be grateful enough to sleep with him afterwards, which she did, but not out of gratitude.
"No!" House cried, disrupting her reverie just as it was getting to the good bit.
"What?" She looked at him, dazed for a moment as she tried to remember where they were and what they were doing.
"Ratliff just fumbled the damn ball. Game might as well end now. There's no way we're going to get over that mistake." He was pissed. He'd bet Wilson $20 on the game.
"We could leave then, beat the traffic." Truth was, she wanted to go somewhere a bit more intimate, without thousands of screaming strangers surrounding them and keeping them from discussing anything of importance.
"Really?" House perked up. The game was over, as far as he was concerned. Even if the Jets won, it wouldn't be by a wide enough point spread to win him his $20 back.
"Really." She took his hand and pulled him to his feet. He nearly toppled over and grabbed onto her for support. She didn't pull away, not at first. This gave him hope.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked once they were safe in his car.
"Take me home." She commanded. For a moment House wondered what he'd done wrong, but then he felt her hand rest on his knee, and out of the corner of his eye he saw that smile that lit up everything around it and he knew that any wrongdoing was going to come later, and hopefully would involve some level of nudity.
"Are you sure?" He didn't think he could handle her backing out at the last minute.
"Absolutely certain," she said, inching her hand up just a little. She didn't want to distract him while he was driving, but she certainly wanted him to understand what she meant.
House drove fast, violating several state laws. Surprisingly, Cuddy didn't chastise him for any of them. She seemed lost in some memory, or perhaps she was plotting their near future. He didn't know and he didn't care. He just wanted to get her home before she changed her mind.
House was chanting over and over in his head 'keep your mouth shut, keep your mouth shut' he didn't want to say anything that might ruin the moment. "Are you really so desperate that you're going to sleep with me because I said you were beautiful?" He should have known that old dogs can't learn new tricks overnight.
Her hand slid off his leg and she stared out the window, her back to him.
"Do you really believe that desperation is the only reason I would sleep with you?" She was still looking out the window and her voice was sad. He wondered if she was crying.
"Yes." He made it sound like a given.
"Oh House." She shook her head. How could he think so little of himself?
"I'm damaged goods. You wouldn't want me if you had a better option available to you."
"I've had better options House, but I'm in love with you." She turned to face him. This time he was looking away, concentrating on the street in front of him, trying to prevent her words from penetrating the thick stone wall he'd built around himself. "I don't know why most of the time, but I am, and there's nothing either one of us can do about it. Believe me, I've tried. So, like it or not, I'm in love with you."
I like it, he said, but only to himself.
"And what's more," she was on a roll now. If she stopped, she might never get out what she'd wanted to say to him all these years. "You deserve it House. I know that you don't think you deserve to be loved, and that's why you push everyone away from you, and I can't pretend to know where that came from, but it's not true House. You are not so horrible or so whatever you think you are, that you don't deserve to find happiness. Did you ever stop to think that maybe if you found happiness you wouldn't be such a bastard?"
"I'd still be a bastard," House mumbled.
"Maybe, but don't you owe it to yourself to try?"
"What's the point?" House flipped on his blinker as he was half way through the intersection. He thought he saw a cop behind him.
"The point is, you have a job that you love even if you bitch and moan about it constantly, you have people who care about you, and you have a woman who is willing to put up with your shit just to be near you. So why don't you pull your head out of your ass long enough to appreciate it."
"I've also got chronic pain and a drug addiction."
"I've got a mother I'm never good enough for, a nursery with no baby in it, and several employees who all want my job."
"My problems are way worse than yours," he said brattily.
"Right House, because the world revolves around you and no one else matters."
"Still want to sleep with me?" He knew she'd say no.
"You bastard!" She just realized what he'd done. "I am going to sleep with you tonight because it's what I want. And I don't care if you're not in the mood, or can't get it up. You are going to pleasure me whether you like it or not."
"Not if I can't get it up." He'd got her there.
"There are other ways House." She had finally figured him out. He was lashing out like a little child, and she just had to force him to accept the inevitable. "You're not going to manipulate your way out of this."
"Needy and desperate. This is going to be a fun night." House turned onto her street with a screech.