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Which Way Is Up?
Bent
Cuddy left House's room, guilt-ridden and ashamed. She closed the door behind her and allowed her head to rest against the wood for a moment.
She needed to get to her office.
Her chest tightened in agony of suppressing emotion, and the build-up of tears in her eyes begged her to blink. But she wouldn't give in until she found the privacy of her own space.
She swallowed, and her dry tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her eyes darted around the hallway. It was busy, but no one was really paying attention to her. She took a step forward and somebody slammed into her.
The impact shook the tears from her eyes. "Sorry."
"Oh. Cuddy." Wilson's large hands helped to steady her.
She was glad that it was him. Anyone else and she might have broken down from the stress.
He scratched his head. "I was just..."
"Eavesdropping?" She guessed, hoping he hadn't heard too much.
"Yes." He noticed the wetness on her face and tilted his head in concern. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to run into you. Are you hurt?"
She swiped the tears away. "No," she smiled. Wilson was always so considerate. "I'm fine." She gave a fleeting glance to the door of House's room.
"He's going to be okay." He patted her shoulder reassuringly.
No, he wasn't. House would never be okay. He would never stop hurting. She just wished that she could take some of the pain away, just to see what he would be like in complete, utter bliss. Without narcotics. "I know," she told Wilson anyway. "I'm going back to my office."
"Did he say something?" Wilson stepped back, placing a hand on his hip. "He's just stressed and confused," he reminded her.
Yeah, but he was always stressed and confused. And he'd never made her feel like a whore before. "I know," she repeated. "He need you." She gestured towards the door.
"Nooo," Wilson blocked her path as she tried to leave again. "He asked for you. He wants you beside him, holding his hand. He can't make lewd comments about sponge baths to me."
She felt her face getting hot and her throat closing. "I can't." She couldn't pretend to be one of his hookers and secretly love him at the same time. She waited by his bedside for three hours! That at least warranted more than a quick make-out session and one eighth of a blow-job.
"He needs you too," Wilson insisted. "He just says it differently because you're a woman and he actually cares..." He waved his hands around as if he had no real idea what was going on in House's head.
She knew what House was like. She wanted him to put a little effort into being different, for her. "He treats me exactly the same as he treats every other woman." Her hand rose up to shield her eyes.
Wilson enveloped her in a hug. "He loves you. We both do."
"Thanks." She still didn't believe him. It would be understandable if he had trouble saying it, but shy was one thing that House was not. He genuinely did not care for her. And she kissed him. She groaned inwardly in embarrassment.
Wilson pulled away and held her at a arm's length distance away. "You should just go back in. He's probably getting impatient. Unless you want to talk about something," he hinted.
She'd already told him about their kiss from the previous night, but this new development was a little too much information. As much as she trusted Wilson, he wouldn't find the image of House's naked body cute or romantic. "I'm sure House will tell you all about it." Every crude detail.
Wilson opened the door, holding a hand to her so she didn't move. "House!" He yelled. "Are you all right?"
"Cuddddddddy!" It was the most obnoxious screech she'd ever heard. "Cuddyy!" House wailed from inside where she couldn't see him.
Wilson gave her a knowing look.
She waved him off. "Oh, shut that thing before he strains a lung."
Wilson shook his head and laughed. "Yeah, he doesn't want you," he said sarcastically.
Cuddy leaned against the door frame. "He doesn't want me. He wants-" she mocked him, "-my lips, my ass, my hands." She rolled her eyes. "He just wanted me to pleasure him." She checked Wilson's face for a reaction.
He wasn't surprised, "It's House! If he didn't make a comment about your ass, then I'd be worried."
She supposed Wilson was right. But it felt different than when he'd joked with her before. "I-" she hesitated, "I tried to distract him, make his pain go away for a few minutes. But I couldn't do it," she shrugged, unhappy with herself, but feeling that she'd be unhappy either way.
"Wait- so you guys finally..." His eyes widened in shock.
"Not exactly-" She had to choose her words carefully. Although Wilson didn't get offended easily, a trait developed from years of contact with House, Cuddy didn't want him to think any less of her. "He can't really move or anything so I..." She gestured forward, looking away.
"Oh." Wilson crossed his arms and shifted his weight. "Forgive me for the implication, but that doesn't sound like you."
That's because it wasn't like her to do what House asked, much less if the request was to go down on him in her hospital. She reached up and let her fingers dig into her scalp, "I know." Her hands dropped. "I felt disgusting." It wasn't supposed to be like that. She was supposed to feel wonderful and sexy, because she was doing something that made him feel good. But, ugh, he hadn't seemed excited. Even from the beginning when she'd straddled him and kissed him.
He'd told her to stop. So maybe it was her. Maybe he'd realized that the real thing wasn't as good as his fantasies.
Wilson interrupted her thoughts. "I'm sure he didn't mean it that way."
She looked up. "What?"
Wilson tried his best to side-step the awkwardness and give her some real advice. "He likes you."
"Yeah, just how he likes all of his other hookers. Why doesn't he just ask them to suck him off?" The words flew out of her mouth before she'd even knew she was saying them. She quickly placed a hand over her mouth, as if that would stop her from saying anything else. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it that way. That was unprofessional."
He smiled, laughing a little. "This isn't a very professional subject anyway."
"You're right," she sighed and pushed off the wall.
Wilson stopped her. "We're friends. We're allowed to be nonprofessional."
But Cuddy only knew how to be professional. Except, apparently, in House's case.
"Why don't you just go back in there and talk to him?" He suggested.
She shook her head. "He'll just laugh at me." Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "You know him. There'll be a moment for him to say absolutely perfect and he'll blow right by it." She was so tired of it all, expecting the best of him and getting nothing every time. She was holding on to a little thread of hope that he might like her. But there was no real evidence for that. Every nice thing he did was tied to a selfish ulterior motive.
And for some reason, she enjoyed him. All the flirtation and banter stirred something up in her that she couldn't get anywhere else. The corners of her mouth turned upward as she remembered him throwing papers and pens on the floor just to get her to bend over.
Wilson saw the tiny smile. "See?! He makes you happy, despite all of the horrible things he's done!" He grinned, raising his eyebrows, "You know, some people call that love."
She laughed. It was another one of those moments where she wondered exactly how Wilson and House ever came to be friends. Wilson was so optimistic. He still believed in true love after three failed marriages.
And he was right. She felt something for House, but he was incapable of reciprocating. It was hopeless trying to persuade him otherwise. "Just go in and help him, please? I'm going to my office." She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling at the knots.
"Wait." Wilson placed a hand on her arm. "I'll talk to him. You listen from the doorway. He can't see you from his bed."
Her first instinct was to say no. She didn't really want to know what Wilson and House talked about behind closed doors. Anyways, House would know the minute she stepped into the room. "That's okay. I'll just wait and talk to him later."
"Don't worry about him noticing. He's drugged out on pain meds right now, and I guarantee he's more upset than you are. His focus isn't on the details right now." He pulled on her arm gently, "Just- listen." He opened the door, and she came with him, only resisting a little. "He's asleep."
She nodded, and stood in the doorway, her back flat against the wall, ensuring that he couldn't see her.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded again, feeling a little guilty about tricking House. But she needed this. She needed a little something from him, regardless of how she got it.
Wilson whispered to her, "You have to be absolutely silent. He'll notice if you move."
She held back her sniffles, restricting her breathing.
"Better," Wilson told her, smiling. He disappeared around the corner and into House's room.
Wilson quietly stepped towards the bed. He knew he probably shouldn't wake House up when he needed to rest, but Cuddy was about to bolt any minute. He pinched House's big toe. "Hey."
House's eyes snapped open. "You're not Cuddy." He laid flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.
"Sorry to disappoint," Wilson said curtly. "What are you doing, demanding for her when you know she's hurt?"
"She's Cuddy. She's always hurt." House didn't move, and Wilson noticed that he appeared sicker than before. Red circles outlined his eyes and the tone of his voice was dead, flat.
Wilson couldn't pity him. He'd had enough of that. "Stop enabling yourself to be an ass." Cuddy didn't deserve the indifferent facade that House was putting up. Wilson dealt with it all the time, because he knew House meant well. But Cuddy couldn't see through it.
House tried to sit up, but the pain in his stomach held him back. He lifted his hand.
Wilson sighed and helped him up, stacking the pillows behind his back. "What are you trying to do?" He honestly wasn't sure of House's motivation for all of this. It wasn't just about sex, and their vulnerable situation certainly wasn't helping. But it wasn't like House to deliberately try and hurt Cuddy.
House's fingers tapped against the sheet. "I'm assuming she told you of our less-than-satisfying attempt at intercourse?"
"Yes. But she didn't exactly use the word 'intercourse'." Wilson knew Cuddy was cringing at this a few feet away. "This could just be my irrational, crazy thought-process, but she might have been more forgiving if you leaned towards 'intercourse' and actually included her in the festivities, rather than pretend that she wasn't fulfilling your wildest fantasy."
House gasped and dropped his jaw. "She told you the naughty details?! That takes all the fun out of it. Now we have nothing to talk about."
Wilson poked House in the shoulder, one of the places that he knew wasn't bruised. "We still have to discuss the grand apologetic gesture for this screw-up." Whenever House messed with Cuddy too much, he always came up with some sort of gesture or slightly meaningful thing to say. Cuddy usually forgave him instantly.
House knew exactly what he was talking about. "Sorry to rain on your parade, Stupid-Cupid, but it's not going to happen this time."
"Why not?" Wilson inquired, glad that House seemed troubled with something other than physical pain. If he actually cared about Cuddy (and admitted it), they could move past this and forward into some sort of relationship that allowed Wilson to have a life outside of trying to get House and Cuddy together. He was tired of playing telephone for them.
"In case you haven't noticed, she kind of hates me," House snapped, brooding in his own thoughts.
"She doesn't hate you," Wilson insisted, "She's just stressed and worried about YOU."
House's eyes darted back and forth as if he was trying to make a decision. "She-" He looked down. "Damn. The one person I thought I'd never be able to repel." He laughed bitterly.
Besides Wilson, of course, but they both knew that. "You two!" Wilson clenched his fists, frustrated. "You have the most messed-up ideas about each other." They wanted to be together, but they had more trouble putting thatinto words than anyone else Wilson knew. "You want Cuddy. Stop playing around. It's childish, really."
"Oh, come on," House argued. "It would never work. She feels guilty all the time. Can you imagine us being together? It would torture her."
He had a valid point, but Wilson was determined to refute it. "You're being selfless!" He pointed out. She brought out the best in him, and he'd allow her to relax a little. It was a perfect match.
"She should be with someone who makes her happy." House refused to make eye-contact Wilson.
Wilson didn't mind. That was what Cuddy needed to hear. "Oh. Wait." He tried to keep a straight face. "Did I not tell you?"
"What?" House was serious.
"Um. Well, this is going to be hard for you to hear..." He placed a hand on House's shoulder. "She's in love with you."
A thump came from the wall where Cuddy was hiding.
House was still contemplating what Wilson had said. "Will you see who's at the door?" He asked, scratching his chin. "If it's Cuddy, tell her...I don't know. Tell her to come in."
"Sure." He went to the door, where Cuddy was wildly gesturing. He pushed her out into the hallway. "Cuddy!" He said, loud enough for House to hear.
"Why did you tell him that?!" She whispered, fiercely, and punched him in the arm. "Now he thinks I'm in love with him!"
"You are!" He instinctively rubbed his arm. She was so stubborn.
"I didn't want him to know!" She pressed a hand to her head. "Just give me a few minutes. And then I suppose I'll have to talk to him. Maybe he won't say anything."
Wilson hoped to God that wouldn't happen. "Okay. Stay out here this time. Don't move!" He touched her to emphasize this point before heading back in.
House was nervously twisting his hands into the sheets. "Where is she?"
"I told her you needed a few more minutes."
"To do what? Jack off?" Housed sighed, thought a moment, and then gasped. "She thinks you're helping me!"
"She does not. Calm down!" Wilson waved his hand in a downward motion. "You need to think. What are you going to say?"
"I don't know." At least he appeared to be thinking.
Wilson paced the room. "Tell her you love her."
"No."
"Tell her you want to be with her. Ask her out on a date," Wilson offered.
House shrugged, tilting his head back and forth. "That doesn't really sound like me."
It was hopeless. Wilson was starting to believe they actually couldn't be together. "This is it, House. You need to do something now."
House pinched his lip, and then dropped his hand. "Go get her."
"What are you going to do?"
"I've got it." He put his hands on his cheeks and rubbed his jaw. Then, he shook his head. "I'm ready. Don't worry, Wilson. I'll pull through." He shot Wilson a sarcastic, confident smile.
Wilson hesitated, slightly worried that House was going to screw up again. He left, without another word, believing that Cuddy loved House for who he was, screw-up's and all.
Cuddy stood nervously outside of House's room. She didn't think she could make it between her anxiety for House's health and humility that he actually might know how she felt. She kept telling herself that he only wanted her for sex, that she should be realistic when it came to their relationship. But a small part of her hoped otherwise.
Wilson opened the door. He didn't appear overly confident. "He says he's ready." He let out a deep breath. "You should just go in. I have a strong suspicion that he's winging this."
She wasn't exactly going off of a prompter either. Something inside her told her that this conversation didn't really need to be planned. "I'm just going to go in."
"Hold on." Wilson gazed at her, taking her in. He then moved to take off her white lab coat, which she'd put on earlier to make herself feel better, regain some control. He buttoned her white blouse a few more buttons, without letting his fingers linger on her breasts, amazingly enough. (Maybe she really was getting too used to House.) He fixed the part in her hair, smoothing the curls around her face, and then leaned into kiss her cheek.
She felt the glow of comfort rise in her cheeks.
"Much better," he said, allowing her to enter the room.
She shut the door behind her, ensuring that Wilson could not eavesdrop. She folded her hands over her skirt and moved so he could see her.
He didn't say anything.
She took another step forward. "Wilson said that I should come back in here. He said I should tell you...things." She moved to his bedside.
He stared at her.
"I guess it's kind of stupid that we rely on him to talk for us. I know it annoys him," She glanced at the door. "And I'm sick and tired of it too." She realized that he hadn't said anything. Was Wilson mistaken? Had House given up? She looked up to the ceiling. "And I can't say anything. Because I'm so afraid of getting hurt." She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry again.
She heard him move, and saw that he made a place for her on the bed. "Thanks." She kicked off her shoes and joined him, for the second time that day.
The narrow bed forced him to hold her. She didn't mind. "So, you want to say anything?"
"Don't die." Two short words. He nuzzled her neck.
It was touching, for him. She chuckled. "I'll do my best." She ran her fingers through his hair, letting them massage the top of his head gently. "Lay down." They both scooted down until he was lying down again, eye-level with her breasts. She could tell he was enjoying the view. "I'm not sorry about before," she told him. "It was too soon for us, and I'm glad I stopped." She said it out loud, partly to convince herself. "I think I deserve better than that."
He smiled slightly, still watching her chest move in time with her breathing.
"What?" She smiled too.
He pursed his lips together and made a sound. "Mmm." He stopped.
"Yeah, I was an idiot before," she though out loud. "So were you, though."
He blinked in agreement.
"Okay." She pulled back. "Why aren't you talking?"
He tightened his arms, tugging her back to him. He grinned into her cleavage, his lips slightly open in a kiss.
She bent her neck, rather uncomfortably, down to meet his lips. It stretched her muscles, but the kiss was worth it. Soft and sweet. She didn't even think he could kiss like that. "Talk to me," she said, moving down to his level and to the edge of the bed, where they could feel close enough without being squashed together.
"Anything I could say would only disappoint you. So, I shut up and everything is perfect." He closed in on her again, indeed believing that everything was perfect.
She felt claustrophobic and had to stand up. "You think I want to be the one to talk? I wasn't lying when I said I was scared out of my mind!" She fell out of the bed, and clumsily made her way back onto her feet. Unfortunately, she stubbed her toe in the process. "Damn it! Holy mother of f-" She bit her tongue at swearing.
A loud rap came at the door. "Everything okay?" Wilson's voice asked, concerned.
"Everything's fucking fine, Wilson!" She shouted. Damn, her toe hurt. She dropped to the ground and held her toe, making sure it wasn't broken.
House watched her in silence.
So he was still going to play that game? "Fuck you!" She yelled at him. "I hate you." He made her feel like she meant the world to him, and then the next second, she was worthless. "I hate that I have to work in this fucking hospital with you every day and it's never enough!"
"Cuddy." His eyes changed, suddenly filled with life.
She stood up.
"You are always enough." He moved his hand to the edge of the bed. That was the best he could do.
She moved closer to him.
"I'm not scared," he said, stretching one of his fingers out to touch her. "Of all the things in my life, you're constant. And then I thought you were dead, and then you weren't."
He was thrown off. Kind of like she was everyday, when she knew he might OD on Vicodin and she might never see him again.
"I suppose I could try to be more constant for you." He paused, "In exchange, it would be nice to have sex. With each other. The real kind, that involved both a penis and a vagina," He stopped, thought about what he said, and continued, "And that's why I didn't want to talk. I was doing so well, too." He shook his head.
She couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. "What do you mean?"
"You don't want to feel like a hooker. I got it. Won't happen again." Obviously, he was really straining to keep his eyes trained to her face.
"I still want you to tell me when I turn you on. It's fun and it's a part of you. And I love...you." She looked away. "You already know. There's no point in me keeping it a secret."
"So just no blow-jobs then?" He grimaced. "I guess..."
She ruffled his hair and grinned. "You are so spoiled." Her fingers brushed his forehead. "I didn't say 'no blow-jobs'. I want it to mean something though. We're not just screwing around. Can you at least pretend?"
"It won't be pretend and you know it." He took advantage and pulled her back in bed with him.
She felt light-weight, his hands on her hips. "I love you," she said. "Don't say it back. That would be weird." She kissed him and let her lips linger on his, feeling his breath.
"I kinda, sorta like having you around," he said. "That means I love you, 'kay?" He whispered into her ear and she nodded. "Because I'm only going to say it once."
She laughed, bouncing up and down on him. She stroked his cheek and rested her head on his chest. "I'm going to take very good care of you."
He fell asleep, holding her wrist so he could feel her pulse beat in his palm.
A/N: Oh, that was so much fluff that I could barely stand to read it. House is so OOC, but there's really no other way to (satisfyingly) end a House fic.
This isn't really the end, but people would not be happy if I continued. (Because Cuddy is dead again in the next hypothetical chapter.) So, we're going to call this "complete" right now, but if I feel like being depressed again, I'll continue.
Oh, thanks for reading it. It was a wonderful experience for my first House fic.
A/N for this fic ends here. This is sort of a weird question, but have you ever watched House and thought, "Ohh, that's such a perfect moment for some Huddy." And then nothing happens. I guess that is sort of the basis for all fanfiction, but I was thinking of doing another House story along those lines. It may be titled, "Lost Huddy Moments" or something equally cliche. It's probably already been done, though. So, yeah, input on that would be lovely.