Good evening, all! Here's the next installment... a bit longer than the last one. Stay tuned after the chapter if you want to give me some musical input for upcoming plot points :-D Special thanks to all of my lovely chapter 3 reviewers: IHeartHouseCuddy, lenasti16, linda12344, Abby, HuddyGirl, Alex, and my Guests!
Cuddy internally chastised herself practically the whole way to Wilson and Amber's that Saturday night. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out why she had allowed House to talk her into taking part his amateur music antics with the rest his patch-work gang of employees and friends. Well, friend, she thought to herself. Wilson was the only one who truly fit into that category; she knew none of the others came close.
And what exactly are he and I to each other now? Cuddy wondered. Boss and employee? No, more than that. But not exactly friends, either. She tried not to think about it very often. At one time, although it had been nearly twenty years prior and relatively short-lived, they had been almost everything to each other; verbal sparring partners, lovers, confidants, bandmates. For the most intense five months of nineteen-year-old Lisa Cuddy's life, an experience that continued to be unprecedented for her even at thirty-eight, the rebelliously genius med student Gregory House had been her whole world.
That had all happened in an era of her life that seemed long gone, except for the occasional argument with said genius that fanned old flames from the past burning into the present. Hopefully, for the sake of the charity and the hospital, they could keep the embers to a crackle and both save face. Finally turning onto the street where Amber and Wilson lived, Cuddy automatically checked her make-up in the rearview mirror.
Timing her arrival for 7:45, she didn't expect House to be there yet. Since he was rarely punctual, Cuddy thought it might give her a few minutes alone with Wilson to fill him in on the whole Philip Webber issue. She was fairly sure that whole element of the situation had eluded the more level-headed doctor's knowledge, because Cuddy was sure he would have chastised House for whatever juvenile scheme he was certainly hatching in terms of revenge.
All week she had hoped to catch Wilson without House or a patient present to address the issue, but it seemed like every time there wasn't a patient, there was House. Did he realize his misstep and think I would rat him out? the brunette thought to herself as she carefully clicked the button to set her car alarm, not wanting to chip her newly dry French manicure. Looking around, Cuddy did not see either House's antique sedan or his bike in plain sight, so she thought her plan for an early entrance had worked. That assumption was immediately proved wrong when the administrator knocked on the apartment door only to be faced with the scheming diagnostician in the flesh.
"Fancy meeting you here… fifteen minutes early," House quipped predictably. "This is a quasi- social situation with the potential for some actual fun, Cuddy… not a board meeting."
"Says the man who is never early… who is also early right now," she retorted easily. She immediately noticed that although he was dressed in his preferred attire of jeans, sneakers and a t-shirt, the jeans looked nearly off the rack and the deep blue Led Zeppelin T-shirt, dangerously close to the color of his eyes, appeared to be a recent purchase, as well. It also seemed like House had tamed his face within the last twenty-four hours. If only he could have the consideration to look less unintentionally desirable, Cuddy lamented internally.
"Pshh, this is Wilson's… there's no early or late for me. There's just here."
"Um, actually, this is not Wilson's place… it's mine," Amber chimed from the kitchen, irritated. "Welcome, Dr. Cuddy!" she greeted in an overly friendly way, entering the room. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"I'm good for now, but thank you," she answered with a mechanically polite smile. As Cuddy carefully slipped past House and into the pleasantly furnished living room, Wilson sent his brash girlfriend a slightly disturbed glance from the couch in response to her thoughtless comment about their living arrangements.
Walking over to make amends, Amber said to Wilson, "I meant… our place." He still seemed irked, so the redhead sat down next to him and gave him a placating peck on the cheek. "It's still new… I just forgot myself for a second, that's all." At that, Wilson smiled nauseatingly and gave her a longer kiss on the lips in return.
"Seriously, if you two are going to carry on like this all night, you should be providing your guests with those barf bags they hand out on airplanes," House taunted, still not approving of his annoyingly sensitive best friend's inexplicable attraction to someone as domineering and inherently unlikable as Amber Volakis.
"Just because you're a miserable asshole doesn't mean we all have to be," the redhead sniped.
"Just because you're hot and smart doesn't make you any less of a cutthroat bitch!"
"Whoa there boys and girls… do you two need another round of bedpan duty? Because that can probably be arranged…" Cuddy interrupted, only half serious.
"Sorry boss, can't punish the underlings with work when we're not at work. Fraternizing with 'the help' has its downsides, doesn't it?" House pressed on with a smirk.
Cuddy huffed, her musings from the drive causing her to take the jibe more seriously than it had been intended. "In case you've forgotten, it was your idea for me to 'fraternize' in the first place. You practically begged me to be a part of this."
"You must have misunderstood. I don't beg."
"You were doing an awfully good impression of it on Tuesday in my office…"
To no one in particular, Wilson muttered under his breath, "Here we go again…"
"Wow. Your factual interpretation of events really needs work if you read my mild interest in your participation as begging," House continued.
"Mild interest, my ass. And I have other things I could be doing tonight."
"Oh, please… like what? Downing a bottle of cabernet all by your onesies and taking your vibrator for a spin to the soft core porn on Skinamax?"
Cuddy forced her face blank. "Over-reaching for shock value much?"
"Over-reaching for 29 with your wardrobe much?" House snapped, circling a pointed finger in his boss's general direction to feign his disproval of her figure-hugging knit gray top, skinny jeans and stilettos. How does she always manage to choose clothing that does nothing but solicit attempted removal at the hands of defenseless bystanders? he contemplated grumpily.
"As entertaining as this game of verbal Ping-Pong is…" Wilson interrupted in a parental tone, "… maybe you two should take it down a notch before your former team and the newbie team arrives. I'm immune to both of you, and Amber has developed a tolerance for your crap faster than anyone else I've ever been in a relationship with, House. But I don't usually see you two reach this point in front of a large audience." The arguing doctors both sighed. If they could agree on anything, it was that Wilson often showed too much resemblance to a mother hen. Also, he was right far too much for either of their liking.
House gave a reluctant bob of his head but withheld eye contact from Cuddy. "Truce?" he said quietly, offering her a fist-shaped olive branch.
She thought briefly, then shrugged, knowing that she didn't have much of a choice. "Truce," she conceded with a slight grin, bumping her fist back. Before anyone could continue the conversation, there was a knock at the door. House opened it since he was still standing the closest, and on the other side were Cameron, Chase and a little unexpectedly, Kutner.
"More early people? What kind of musicians are you?" House demanded with exaggerated disbelief.
"I was in marching band… those directors are tyrants if you're not in formation ten minutes before the beginning of rehearsal!" Cameron teased, giving Wilson and Amber a wave Cuddy a friendly nod, which she returned.
"Well, this band won't be doing any marching. You know, the leg and all," House said pathetically, clutching his thigh far more obviously than he would if he were in actual pain. At one point and time, Cameron would have immediately felt bad for making an insensitive remark about her former boss's leg. Thankfully, she had moved on to a place where she just shook her head at him and shot him an "oh please" look that had the others laughing audibly.
"Thank God… I wouldn't have picked orchestra if I had any desire to march," Chase quipped. "Think I'll get to use my fiddle much in this group?" he asked House.
"Not sure yet. We'll have to see what kind of vocal chops we're looking at before we can start picking music," House answered plainly, one of his first sincere remarks that evening. Although his pain was down to a dull roar thanks to some recently ingested pills, he did finally decide to take a seat in one of the chairs nearest the door.
"Makes sense," Chase shrugged casually. "I hope I can play some, though… I don't get the chance much these days."
"Same with me and my sax… I don't get to play nearly as much as I'd like," Kutner piped in.
"Did you march in high school, too?" Cameron inquired.
"Oh yeah, we were required to march," Kutner smiled. "Wasn't as much my thing as Jazz, though. That was my zone!" he gestured smoothly with his palms for effect.
"So did you play alto sax to march?" House probed. "They're the same transposition."
"Yeah, until I was a sophomore. But then I was a drum major my junior and senior years."
"Wow, for two years? You must have been pretty good," Cameron complimented
"Eh, I was alright. Good with rhythm… and I didn't hate being the center of attention."
Most of the room's occupants laughed, and even House looked mildly amused. In spite of the harsh exchanges that took place right after Cuddy arrived, she had to admit a change from the workplace atmosphere put her employees in a new light for her. Kutner teetered on the edge of being a more cheerful, but equally reckless version of House at the hospital, but she could already tell that his easygoing demeanor and humor would help to balance out some of the intensity of the other potential group members.
Another knock sounded at the door, and Kutner answered it this time.
"Good evening, all," Forman greeted. "So where are we going?"
"Not even a 'how are you' or 'I brought some pot' or 'thank you for inviting me to partake in musical awesomeness, House?' "
"Let's get one thing straight… I'm here to help the hospital, and maybe our department, get some good publicity. Not to be your puppet, alright?"
"You have got to be the biggest buzzkill on the planet. Worse than that one over there," House complained, pointing to Cuddy.
"Hey! I know how to have fun," she countered, putting her hands on her hips in annoyance. "You know I know how to have fun," the administrator added, forgetting the present company for a minute. But it was too late.
"Does he, now?" Chase mused. Cuddy shot him a look, and he thought better of his initial reaction. "Sorry," he said, clearing his throat. He continued, trying to break the tension, "So… do you play anything, Dr. Cuddy?"
She softened a bit at Chase's question and grinned. "Um, yeah. Cello. And some bass guitar."
"Nice. It'll be great to have a fellow string player in the band," Chase acknowledged with a smile. She returned it shyly.
"Cello's a beautiful instrument. If I had played something, that probably would have been it," commented Amber.
"I never knew that, Cuddy. Were you any good?" queried Wilson, intrigued at this knew knowledge of his long-time friend.
"Oh, uh... I don't know. I…"
"She is very, very good. As in presently. And unnecessarily modest in this one and only particular aspect of her life," House finished for her with an uncharacteristic compliment.
Cuddy quickly became incredulous. "How did you know?"
"Besides all that time I spend snooping around your house when you're not home looking for skimpy underwear to steal? I found lots of other things, too. I know you have a cello in your basement." His boss looked unamused and quirked an eyebrow. "Ok, fine… in your office. Like you'd keep it someplace that wasn't temperature controlled… but you still play. You have dainty little callouses on all the playing fingers of your left hand. Even a nice one on your thumb… which can only mean that you're playing literature that uses thumb position. And since you could play stuff like that right out of high school, and you didn't suck then, I'm guessing that you still don't suck now."
Everyone in the room looked surprised, but Cuddy appeared downright dumbfounded. She had never once mentioned her cello to House in all the years of their re-acquaintance after his infarction; it would have stirred up too many memories that she felt were safest left in the hidden shadows of their shared past.
"That's just kind of creepy when you do that, House," Cameron finally said, breaking the silence.
"Do what?" he replied, playing dumb.
"Make a totally thorough observation about some miniscule detail of a person that escapes the notice of ninety-eight percent of the population," supplied Foreman.
"That's our silly House," said Wilson in a purposely effeminate manner. House eyed him, and the oncologist coughed a little too loudly.
"Do you sing too, or just play?" Cameron engaged Cuddy.
"A little," Cuddy lied. She could tell that House was about to correct the self-deprecating assessment of her singing abilities, but a beeping sound from Kutner's pocket distracted everyone from the exchange. He pulled his phone out to check it.
"Just got a text from Thirteen. She put in some clinic hours today, and they're short-handed because someone didn't show up. She's going to stay an extra hour or so until they can get someone to cover… I guess it's really busy… but she says she'll meet up with us when she's done if I tell here where."
"Tell her Beasly's. Over on State," House instructed
"In Princeton?" asked Kutner. His boss nodded, and the younger doctor's thumbs moved swiftly across his Blackberry to key a response.
"Where's short and furry, by the way?" House asked the room.
"Oh, dinner with his wife and another couple that he couldn't get out of," the texting resident answered, his face still fixed on the screen while he messaged Thirteen. "He messaged me this afternoon, I guess I forgot about it. He said he'd try to get away later if he could."
"Beasly's?" repeated Amber after the fact after having time think. "Wait a minute… I used to live right by that place. Don't they do karaoke on Saturday nights?"
"You're holding our auditions at a bar? In front of a bunch of strangers?" Cameron demanded.
Wilson snickered. Amber turned to him and grilled, "You knew about this, didn't you?"
"Um… no?" he squeaked unconvincingly.
"Oh for Christ sakes, would you all chillax? Part of being in a band is performing in front of a bunch of strangers, and usually drunk and rowdy ones. Call it modeling the conditions of a real-world scenario," House lectured. "If you can't handle belting out a couple of tunes with all of the words flowing by on a big screen right in front of you while being heckled by obnoxious people, you don't have the balls for my band, or the competition."
For some strange reason, almost the entire room looked to their dean in that moment to shut House down or tell him that he was being unreasonable. Instead, she did the last thing any of them would have expected her to do. Her face broke gradually into a sly grin, one that her troublesome employee then mirrored, albeit faintly. Cuddy stood up and walked to the door with a confident swagger. The weight of perfection's façade had tired her, and she was ready to drop it long enough to enjoy herself for one night.
Turning the knob and putting a foot in the hallway with a devious grin, she said, "Well, are you guys coming? Or are you going to be a bunch of chicken-shits about it?"
Most of the room could only gape, but House smiled a real smile. The fearless and thrill-seeking girl he had fallen in love with at Michigan was still in there somewhere. Philip Webber be damned; he couldn't wait to draw her out again.
A/N: Ok folks, here's the deal. Now that the cat's out of the bag about karaoke, I would appreciate a little help with songs for a few characters. (And this isn't going to be like a typical "song fic" where I just list lyrics. If you want to see how I handle songs in context, you can take a peek at chapter 9 of my Megamind story "The Science Isn't QUITE Impossible." No pressure.)
Requested Input:
1) Something embarrassing and poppy for Wilson to sing. Probably something that was original sung by a girl.
2) Something that House would sing specifically to embarrass/piss off Cuddy.
3) Something for Kutner to sing... maybe as a duet. I'm having trouble envisioning what kind of music he would like.
Feel free to give ideas in comments or PM me if you would rather. You can give me suggestions for the others if you want, but I already have a pretty good idea of what I'll be using for them. Also, I made a decision about keeping my music choices chronologically in line with cannon. I will basically try to adhere to 2008 or before for the sake of my headcannon, unless there is a specific song that I want to use for a specific purpose. Thank you in advance for your assistance :-D
** NERD NOTE** - "All of Me" by John Legend may possibly be one of the most perfect Huddy songs in the history of EV-ER. If anyone is still making videos... you would basically make my life if you made one for that song. Otherwise, I may just have to learn how to do it myself. Because it is something that NEEDS to exist, in this Huddy's humble opinion.