Good evening, friends and Huddies! So I have definitely not abandoned this story... RL just threw me for a total loop in the last couple of weeks. About 2 weeks ago, we had to put our 7 year old Tortie cat, Elphaba, down very unexpectedly due to a previously undetected, but rapidly advancing kidney disease. I didn't feel much like writing for pretty much a whole week after that, but the muse has slowly returned. My studio's spring recital is now over, but now I'm preparing to do a series of music camps throughout the summer at the studio, in addition to my regular teaching load of lessons. But, since my public school music teacher hubby will be off for the summer starting Friday I am hoping *crosses fingers* that I will go back to having slightly more regular intervals of writing opportunities. Anywho, I only finished this last night, but it's been such an eternity I wanted to get this up ASAP. I hope you enjoy!
And shout-outs to my lovely chapter 11 reviewers: IHeartHouseCuddy, lenasti16, Abby, HuddyGirl, Alex, OldSFan, and Guest!
Also, I would LOVE some more feedback on this chapter... it makes my day when I get reviews! :-D
Chapter 12- Total Request Live
House could never be sure if he remained outside for a few minutes after Cuddy left to consciously put some space between their reappearances inside, or because he needed some time to process everything that had just occurred between them. When he originally hatched his scheme for Battle of the Band-AIDS the week before, the diagnostician had shallowly hoped that with enough liquor involved, it might at least get him a couple of gropes or maybe even a drunken make-out session with his current employer and ex-girlfriend.
He had not, however, been remotely prepared for the reality he now faced; an only slightly tipsy Cuddy admitted that she was still attracted to him, desired him, and possibly even liked him just a little bit. More importantly, she had showed him, and she had allowed him to show her a tiny glimpse of authentic emotion. Both of them had come clean about their mutual feelings for once, on the same day, in the same place, at the same time. House had no idea how or if this new status quo could last. But as he leaned against the cold brick of Beasley's outside wall, he knew that he felt a foreign surge of motivation, for once, to strive for a goal that had nothing to do with a case or aggravating someone.
When he finally went back inside and stopped in the men's room for good measure since he was passing it, he heard an immediately recognizable voice emanating from the speakers throughout the bar. Confirming the auditory with a visual, House found a reasonably inebriated Wilson singing his bleeding heart out to "Piano Man" on the stage. The majority of the patrons reflected the sentiment of the somber song set to Billy Joel's contrastingly bright harmonies, many of the groups with arms around one another and some waving lighters just had Kutner had done earlier in the evening.
In fact, House noticed, his youngest fellow was doing the same now, and he was swaying and singing in a staggered line with all of the other doctors from Princeton-Plainsborough. Amber's elitist demeanor seemed to have dwindled since the object of her affection was doing the crooning, and she openly sang along with him. Similarly, Forman and Chase were finally drunk enough to chime in, and Taub and Thirteen had caught up enough to do the same. Their boss knew from the lyrics that the song was readying to draw to a close, and he made a quick decision to put himself on the line publicly a little bit more since it had garnered him some very positive results with Cuddy thus far that night.
So while Wilson sang about the musical crowd-draw of a fictional Saturday night in a nameless bar, House stealthily sidled up to a distractedly singing Cuddy, who stood on the end of the line with her arm around Thirteen's shoulder. He slid his right arm around her waist, and she looked up with an involuntary startle to verify the source of presumption. Realizing that she sensed it was his presence before she saw his face, the brunette smiled at his subtly affectionate gesture and gave him a little side hug by way of recognition when she reached her free arm around the much taller House's back. Thirteen arched an eyebrow at the unusual display, but both of her supervisors were too distracted to notice.
When Wilson reached the last refrain, House surprised everyone around him by chiming in loudly with, "Sing us a song, you're the piano man…" and continuing all the way through the last strains of the song. Since Beasley's held onto its steadfast crowd easily into the wee hours of the morning on weekends, Wilson received a strong ovation for his efforts when he finished singing around 11:30. Cuddy held the current applause record, though, and it was unlikely that anyone would manage to surpass her performance that night. When the oncologist made his way back to their tables, he was congratulated profusely by the fairly intoxicated group and ordered a round of Red-Headed Sluts for all of his friends. Amber was drunk enough to laugh out loud at her boyfriend's alcohol-inspired jab, and a similar mood permeated through the rest of the potential band members while Chase made an impromptu toast.
Raising his shot glass purposely with feigned seriousness, he decried, "To House, because if not for his insane epiphany that all of us should compete in Battle of the Band-AIDS, and that the singers for said band should be auditioned through public humiliation… but at least most of us are too shit-faced to care at this point…" he added, inciting laughs from his friends, "But if it wasn't for his insanity, we wouldn't all be here having this insanely kick-ass time. So… to House!"
"To House!" everyone echoed, and gulped down the shots that certainly no one needed but would continue to fuel more antics for what was turning out to be an incredibly auspicious evening for none other than the man himself. House smiled. In spite of every nasty action to the contrary, Chase had always been his favorite duckling.
H-C-H-C-H-C-H-C- H-C-H-C-H-C-H-C- H-C-H-C-H-C-H-C- H-C-H-C-H-C-H-C- H-C-H-C-H-C-H-C H-C-H-C-H-C-H-C-
An hour and several more shots, mixed drinks, and imports later, the tables in Beasley's filled with some of the best medical minds from Princeton-Plainsborough Teaching Hospital boasted a contradictory atmosphere of blatantly rowdy drunkenness. After many rounds of progressively sloppy flippy-cup interspersed with the occasional break for dancing and a song here and there, it was as if Cuddy and the select elite of her staff had been partying it up together for years.
And through all of it, House and his boss with possibly added benefits had reached a silent, but conscious agreement to stick close together. On some level, House knew that Wilson and definitely his team would be less likely to direct prying questions at the pair of them rather than one of them individually. As the night went on and the alcohol continued to flow steadily, however, everyone else seemed more preoccupied with having a good time free of the responsibilities of work and less concerned about each other's personal business.
And it went without saying that the former college sweethearts were thoroughly enjoying the newly shared acknowledgement of their mutual feelings. They relished in the diminished attention on their interactions, sitting or standing next to one another almost constantly and stealing a number of smoldering glances and almost as many subtly affectionate touches. Even so, House and Cuddy's never-ending exchange of barbs ensured that a possible change in the status of their relationship wouldn't spark a sudden wave of sappy or overly considerate behavior.
While neither of them had taken the stage a second time that night so far, a very inebriated Foreman had somehow convinced the equally tanked Chase and Kutner to do what may have been the most interesting version of "Straight Outta Compton" ever performed in the history of karaoke. Although the crowd had dwindled somewhat by 12:30am, enough patrons still filled the room to meet the performance with enthusiastic, if drunken applause. Afterwards, the majority of the group was either sitting around two tables pushed together trying to learn how to play "Ride the Bus" from Kutner and Chase with an old and stained deck of bar cards or watching. House and Cuddy surveyed the highly entertaining goings on from a newly vacated neighboring table, sharing quick remarks and a very tasty Fishbowl with two colorful straws.
"I hadn't heard that song in soooo long!" Cuddy drew out affectedly.
"I'm surprised you ever heard it at all," House retorted, reaching into the oversized glass and pulling out a red Swedish fish to pop into his mouth.
She rolled her eyes. "Ok, here it comes… yet another crack about how I only listen to the Go-Go's or the Bangles or… something. Right?" The dean took an immodest slurp and glanced up at her roguishly handsome genius of an ex-boyfriend who only became more enticing as her inhibitions lowered with every sip of liquor that passed her lips.
"I suppose you did bring the Janis earlier tonight, didn't you?" he asked her rhetorically while sweeping his fingers through their drink in search of another fish.
"Damn right I did!" Cuddy answered loudly. "And would you stop sticking your hands in the bowl? God knows where they've been." Finally having located the gummy candy he was looking for, House picked it up between his thumb and forefinger and looked at it curiously. "I thought red was your favorite," she observed offhandedly.
"It is. But blue is yours," he answered in a low, seductive tone, teasing the treat in front of her mouth. "Open up!" Cuddy acquiesced but made it a point to close her mouth around his fingers as he fed her. Her eyes held misleading innocence while she grazed his thumb with her tongue before letting his fingers slide out from between her cheeks with an audible pop. "Well isn't somebody being a naughty little administrator tonight," House teased with restrained mirth.
Cuddy just smiled knowingly at him and proceeded to take another generous drink of their tropical treat. "Maybe," she flirted back.
"Come closer. I have a secret to tell you," the conniving diagnostician uttered conspiratorially. His boss complied with a wary arch of her perfectly shaped eyebrow, leaning her ear toward his mouth since the two were already sitting shoulder to shoulder on their tall chairs. Slowly sliding his hand up her thigh, he whispered, "I can be naughty too." Cuddy only knew that all too well, and she answered his obvious declaration with the throaty laugh that he found so incredibly attractive but heard much too infrequently. "Watch this," he added, patting her leg while he reached for his cane to stand up. "Wilson! My man!"
As House had called his name, Wilson had just taken a rather large sip of the cheaper light beer he had traded for his coveted microbrews in pursuit of the drinking games. He looked around somewhat confusedly for the source of his name, his drunken state being what it was, but greeted the face of his best friend with overwhelming enthusiasm.
"House! My brother from another mother!" the oncologist slurred affectionately when House reached his table. "I am totally going to win this game. I keep getting all the good cards!" Thirteen, Chase and Kutner, being the most experienced drinking game players at the table, laughed loudly at his assertion.
"Except that the object of the game is to not have to drink, and you're halfway into your second beer just in this game!" Thirteen slurringly explained.
"That's just the stunning beauty of drinking games. The only reason you really play them is because you're not opposed to the notion of getting completely tanked. So even when you lose, you aren't really losing anything, are you?" House philosophized.
"WOW. That's like… deep House," pondered Kutner with the incongruous seriousness that can only result from thorough intoxication.
"Well, all of you are pretty deeply into your cups, so to speak, so it's wildly appropriate. So, who's going to get their cute little butt back up on stage to sing for me next?"
"For God's sake House, I just went," Chase said dramatically. "But if you really want me to…"
"I'm not interested in a blond at this particular moment," House dismissed.
"Nooo… obviously a brunette," Thirteen chimed in, tilting her head towards Cuddy.
She was close enough to overhear their conversation and responded, "Oh, no you don't… I think I'm probably done for the night. Once was enough for me."
House turned around and fixed her with a burning stare. "I thought that women were capable of multiple… performances." The dean pursed her lips in annoyance, and Kutner and Wilson nearly spit out their beers at the humorous, if audacious remark. The commotion caught the attention of Amber, Foreman, Taub and Cameron, who had migrated to the island in the center of the room to play bar dice with the assistant manager, Rick.
"Does someone need the Heimlich maneuver over there?" Cameron giggled, far too amused by her own joke thanks to the strong U.V. Lemonade she was enthusiastically swigging.
"Olive gone astray, perhaps?" added Amber wittily.
"No, nothing like that. Just House trying his best to finally earn that coveted sexual harassment lawsuit that's been waiting with baited breath to file itself against him," Cuddy sarcastically answered, indulging in another swallow of the Fishbowl.
"Well, 'sexual' does happen to be my favorite brand of harassment… although I appreciate so many," House mused thoughtfully. Cuddy just looked skyward and shook her head. "And speaking of harassment… I think that Jimmy Boy should serenade all of us once again, since he did such a veritably outstanding job the first time," the diagnostician patronized far too obviously.
Being too drunk to register his friend's facetious tone, Wilson bashfully responded, "Oh, noooo. It should be Cuddy… she's the best one in the whole bunch." Since the bar dice group had made their way back to the tables, Amber's noticeable pout told that she felt slighted by her boyfriend's praise of his boss's singing abilities. Unfortunately for the oncologist, he was too drunk to register that, as well.
"Cuddy-Schmuddy, Wilson… you, still need to do your signature song."
His eyes grew wide, and jarring memories from the Ghost of Karaoke Past sent a ripple of sobriety through his muddled brain. "No, House."
"Oh, come on now… you know you want to…" House sing-songed.
"I… don't even know what you're talking about," Wilson muttered unconvincingly, folding his arms on the table and slumping on top of them like a petulant child.
House smirked with a deviousness that spelled substantially more danger than it usually did. "Cuddles," he snapped his fingers chipperly, "Front and center."
Taken aback, Cuddy performed a quick glance within her personal space, as if she were positive he must be addressing some other person with her last name. "Do I look like your maid?" she bit back with a hostile squint.
"No, not right now… but we'll find you a cute little black and white uniform, and then we can talk," House smiled unapologetically.
When her glare only intensified, he rolled his eyes and exaggeratingly returned her gaze with his own bugged out orbs. Then he cocked his head just slightly to the side as if to say, I've got a secret. Cuddy considered the flirt in his body language and decided it would probably be worth her while in this instance to comply. So, she hopped down off her chair and slowly approached him with her hands behind her back. The entire group of doctors watched their supervisors curiously, fascinated with this seemingly casual plane of nonverbal communication between two people who regularly appeared to despise one another.
When Cuddy finally stood in front of House, he pulled her closer by a hand at the small of her back and bent down until his mouth was just millimeters from her ear. It was immediately clear that he was telling her something quite intriguing about Wilson, because her gray eyes immediately widened as they fell on her star oncologist. She tried very hard to stifle a snorted laugh.
"Really?!" she turned back to House to breathlessly ask through her mirth. He gave her an exaggerated, single nod and proceeded to draw her close again to impart another piece of vital information. Now Cuddy was grinning at Wilson like a Cheshire cat, and he could feel a fresh sheen of sweat materialize on his forehead. He was pretty sure he knew exactly what his best friend had just told his boss.
"Ok," she said gleefully and started to walk away from House to undertake the mission he had bestowed upon her, but he stopped her by grabbing her hand and pulling her back toward him. This time, he locked both arms around her waist, and House's expression grew a bit softer with this renewed whisper. Cuddy's did, as well, but this time when she looked up at him it was like he had sprouted another head. "Um… are you sure?" she asked him, clearly skeptical of whatever he had told her. He gave a nod just as sure as his previous one, and she shrugged. "Alright…" the dean said warily, her eyes never leaving House's as she left him to approach the D.J. for the second time that night.
"What in the hell did you just tell her?!" Wilson asked his friend, clearly agitated.
"You already know the answer to that question… wouldn't be so pissed off otherwise."
"What is it?" Amber asked nosily, inserting herself physically between House and Wilson.
House just grinned, knowing her question would be answered quite publically in a matter of seconds since the queue for karaoke had dwindled down to nonexistence in the last half hour. Cuddy had barely returned to the fold when the D.J., who seemed to have encountered an exuberant second wind at her request, addressed the remaining crowd.
"Hey there, all you faithful late-night Beasly-ans… we have a very special treat for everyone that's still hanging around an hour before bar close! Dr. James Wilson would like to come back up here… he's the gentleman who did such a great 'Piano Man' for us a few hours ago… and take us back to a time when 'music and passion were always the fashion'… the 'Copacabana!' "
A/N: Just in case anyone was wondering, the rating of this story will eventually be bumped up to "M." It's hard to judge a time frame on that, but I would estimate in the next 7 chapters or so. I could be wrong about that. But it will come. Eventually ;-)