Chapter 16 – Daddy Issues

I was surprised after dinner that night with all the documents I would need to be enrolled in school, get my license, and get a job. I examined my new social security card, memorizing the number. I opened my mouth to ask House how exactly he had pulled this off, but decided that I was probably better off not knowing.

"Okay, I'll get online and see what I can find out about charter cyber schools in the area. We'll probably have to go to an enrollment event, but as long as there's one soon I can probably get into classes by the Monday after next." I said, handing the social security card back to House, whom I assumed would put it with my birth certificate and other significant documents.

"I hope by 'we' you mean you and your imaginary friend," House said, eyeing me from across the table. I sighed as I rose from my seat, making my way towards the sink and starting on the dishes from dinner. I had a feeling House wouldn't be too thrilled about this part.

"House, you're my quote-un-quote dad, remember? Wouldn't it be a bit weird for me to show up solo? Plus, even though I'm eighteen, I'm sure I still have to have an adult with me. Listen, my best friend Maura was in cyber school, she said the enrollment is really easy. We go, say why we're interested in cyber school, I pick my classes, and they give me a laptop." I furrowed my brow for a moment. "At least, that's how it is in Pennsylvania...eight years from now."

"They just pass out free laptops like candy?" House questioned dubiously. "Tax payer's money going to a good cause, I see."

"Well, keep in mind, laptops are kind of new now, but in eight years, they're old news. You're going to be blown away by some of the stuff they come up with in just the next decade." I stopped myself as I dried my hands on a dishtowel. "I shouldn't be telling you this. No more distant future talk. Let's focus on next week."

"I'm not going," he said as I heard the fridge open behind me. "I'm a doctor. I'm busy saving lives, remember? Being a hero?"

Oh, great. Wilson must've told him I'd said that. I was never going to live that down.

"House, you've got to play your part. I'll pretend I'm actually from this universe, you pretend you've been suddenly saddled with a teenager," I paused, tilting my head slightly. "Which in all honesty shouldn't be that hard."

House just rolled his eyes, taking a sip of the beer he had just grabbed from the fridge. "Fine, whatever. But if you try dragging me to any father daughter picnics, I'm kicking you out on the street, emissary from the future or not."

"Agreed," I said, smirking. "Look at this way, at least you don't have to tag along with me when I go job hunting."

"So, you really are getting a job?" House asked, lifting an eyebrow at me.

I nodded. "Well, yeah. I'm not going to just freeload off of you forever. It wouldn't be right," I answered with a shrug, taking a seat across from House at the table. "It shouldn't be that hard. I mean, I just go in, fill out a resume, and wait for the call."

House observed me for a moment before responding. "You've never had a job before, have you?"

"Uh, no. It's not that I didn't want a job, but..." I trailed off, scratching the back of my neck self-consciously. "I just wanted to enjoy my childhood, you know? Medical school was right around the corner, then being a doctor, and I wouldn't ever have another time where I could just sit around, watch TV, and play video games."

It took House's smirk to make me realize what I'd just said. "I wasn't really planning on following your work ethic, House."

"I thought I was your idol?" House asked, putting a hand to his chest and adopting an expression of mock offense.

"Let's stick with hero," I said, unable to help a smile from forming on my face. I pushed myself out of my chair, making my way into the living room.

"Kid," House called, causing me to stop and turn to the diagnostician. He pushed me gently back against the wall. "Smile," he ordered. He pulled out his cell phone and aimed it directly at my face. I grinned automatically at the camera.

"Why?" I asked through my teeth, not moving my lips. The flash went off and House lowered his phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

"You need to have a photo for your fake driver's license," he explained. I blinked, not really knowing how to respond to that, so I continued on to the living room.

"What do you want to watch?" I asked, plopping down on the couch and taking custody of the remote control.

"It's Sunday," House said, following me into the living room and plucking the remote control out of my hand. "Sex and the City is on."

I stared at House as he sank down onto the couch. "Are you serious?" A second later, the Sex and the City theme was echoing through the apartment, and I just shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Apparently you are."

Later that night, House seemed to tire of channel surfing, and moved to relocate to his room with a medical text of some variety. I called his name just before he closed his door. "House?"

"What?" he asked, turning to look at me.

"Could I play your piano?" I asked hesitantly, nervously playing with the edge of my shirt.

He considered me for a moment before responding. "Can you play?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied. "I'm no Beethoven, but I'm okay."

House shrugged before turning away from me. "Go crazy," he told me before heading into his bedroom and closing the door.

So, crazy I would go. I vaulted over the back of the couch with a small smile on my face, making my way over to the beautiful instrument. I settled myself down on the bench, every moment I had seen House sitting here, both on the show and in real life, played through my mind.

I settled my fingers down on the keys, doing a few scales to warm up. I had played the glockenspiel in the school band, and from that I had easily learned how to play the piano. It was the same principal, only with fingers instead of sticks. I slowly eased into the few songs that I knew the entirety of. To quote Hugh Laurie, I could play the beginning of hundreds of songs, but I could play the ends of maybe two of them.

So, for most of the late evening, I enjoyed myself with the piano, occasionally singing quietly along with whatever I was playing. I didn't want to be too loud and risk House not being able to fall asleep because of the noise. I knew that he had a hard time sleeping; I didn't want to make it more difficult.

Around midnight, I started feeling tired myself, and it didn't help that most of the songs I knew were sweet and slow, and I soon found my eyes drooping. I yawned as I stood up and stretched, deciding falling asleep on the couch was preferable to passing out on the piano and drooling on the keys.

When I stood up, I listened closely to try and tell if House was asleep or not yet. There was no light coming from the bottom of the door, so I assumed he had gone to sleep early. "Night, House," I said quietly, before making my way to the couch, pulling a blanket over myself, and drifting to sleep.

The next week was as interesting as the last, as I slowly but surely adjusted to living with one of the most enigmatic human beings I'd ever encountered. I became acquainted with the many moods, shades, habits, and mannerisms of Gregory House.

First off, the instances where he and Wilson lived together, in both seasons two and six, were not at all exaggerated. House really was a pig. I think the only reason the apartment stayed presentable over the years was Wilson occasionally tidying up while he was over. House's bathroom and eating habits left much to be desired. I nearly went swimming in the toilet on a daily basis, since House kept leaving the toilet seat up, and I don't think the man had ever been taught how to use a napkin.

He left beer bottles and empty glasses everywhere he went, crumpled up chip bags, and every other article of trash and refuse under the sun. I was starting to regret how much I had bought at the store, as I saw the remains discarded around the living room and kitchen. It was a daily struggle to keep the place clean, and I had to use all my willpower not to clean House's room as well, which I had yet to be inside. However, when the door was open, I could see rumpled laundry and books scattered about, with the bed in a constant state of disarray.

That's not to say living with House was all cons and no pros. Despite his god-awful hygiene habits, he was at least interesting to be around. On the first day of Occam's Razor, which began Monday when House arrived at work, I noticed that House had a PS2 slim tucked into one of his closets. I had chosen not to accompany him to work that day, intending to go job hunting, and not wanting to smother the diagnostician with my presence. I had also made my enrollment appointment with NJ Cyber, the statewide cyber charter school I planned on attending.

I had the PS2 set up in the living room by the time House got home, and demanded to know why he hadn't told me about it before. Thanks to my older brother, I had grown up playing video games, and House had a pretty decent collection going on.

"I barely use it. Wilson sucks at video games," House said as he shrugged off his coat.

"Yeah, but I don't. Come on. I'm challenging you to a Street Fighter tournament right now," I said motioning towards the two controllers. House contemplated my challenge for a moment before nodding.

"Fine, loser cooks dinner."

I cooked dinner that night. House was better than I expected.

The job hunt was tiring, but rewarding. The first day, I submitted a resume at Macy's and a cute little coffee shop only a block from House's apartment on Baker Street. I expected to hear back from them soon. It was nice to finally have something to be working towards, instead of just hanging around Taj MaHouse and trying to comprehend my current living situation.

Throughout the week, House consistently bugged me about the future and his current patient. I finally broke down that Tuesday over dinner. I had a feeling our video game challenges were going to become a daily event, and House said that as long as I kept losing to him, I'd be cooking dinner for him forever. After my second clobbering at Street Fighter, I had ended up making the two of us chicken noodle soup for dinner.

I set down my spoon, glaring at House over my soup. "You're not going to drop this, are you?"

"Nope," House said, meeting my gaze.

"Fine, I'll placate you a little. How about I tell you the name of each episode? Will that keep you happy?"

"I'm always happy," House replied sarcastically. "Spill."

"This episode is called Occam's Razor," I told him. House's eyes drifted off, and he was strangely quiet for the rest of dinner, apparently trying to puzzle out how the episode title related to his patient's diagnosis. We were nearly finished when he spoke up again.

"So, tomorrow's your enrollment appointment," House said. "And I get to play the doting father."

"I'm sure you're overjoyed," I muttered as I picked up my empty bowl and House's as well, knowing that he wouldn't clean up himself. "Please, please just don't offend these people, okay? You've got all the fake stuff I need, right? Including report card from the last quarter of my junior year?"

"Yeah. I gave you all As, wouldn't want anyone to think I have an idiot for a kid."

"God forbid," I said, laughing. "Okay then. We're set."

The next day, House called Cameron, Chase, and Foreman to let them know that he wouldn't be until a little later than usual, and they would have to handle Brandon on their own for a little bit. Thankfully, it had dropped into the thirties as November continued on, and House elected to take his car to the enrollment event, which was being held at a downtown Hilton.

When we arrived, a feeling of anxiety settled into my stomach. The chances of House actually behaving at this seemed...slim, to say the least. As we strolled through the doors, I saw the doctor glance around, taking in the other parents with their cyber school hopefuls.

Most of the kids looked...weird, to say the least. It was pretty common knowledge that most kids who went to cyber school were ones who couldn't handle the more social aspect of public school. There was a good amount of military kids as well, judging by the number of fathers with crew cuts.

"I'd say blend in, but since you're not an Army brat or a social disaster, I don't think you'll be able to pull it off," he said, glancing around as we made our way to the registration desk.

"Names, please?" the portly woman at the desk asked in a sickly sweet voice.

"Anya Carhart and Gregory House," I provided. She quickly scribbled down our names on stick-on nametags before offering them to us.

"You'll be meeting Mrs. Karol at table eight."

I grabbed the both of them and stuck mine on my chest, but when I went to hand House his, he just crumpled it up and tossed it into a trash can. "Trying to be mysterious?" I asked as we made our way to table eight. Before House could respond, the woman who was apparently Mrs. Karol smiled up at me.

"Hi, I'm Mrs. Karol," she extended her hand to House. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

House, unsurprisingly, didn't take her hand. "So, what's the application process here? Some rigorous test to make sure she can sit and stare at a computer for hours on end? Definitely not for anyone, it takes a certain kind of talent for a task that insurmountable."

Suppressing my urge to face desk repeatedly, I took my seat in front of the table, staring daggers at House. He followed suit, though somewhat reluctantly. His jibe seemed to have rendered Mrs. Karol somewhat uncomfortable.

"I think you'll find that NJ Cyber is not right for all students," she said carefully. "But let's hope Anya will feel right at home with us, yes?"

"Well, I would certainly hope so, since she'll be going to school from home."

I kicked House's good leg hard under the table, my silent gesture of behave to my antagonistic pseudo-parent.

"Here's my report card from my last quarter, as requested," I said, putting on a charming smile and handing the woman my fake report card. She peered over her glasses and nodded her head approvingly at what she saw.

"You have a 3.9 GPA. This is very impressive, Ms. Carhart," she said. "Now, why are you and your family interested in NJ Cyber?" she asked, handing me my report card back.

"I'd like to get a job, and if I go to cyber school, my schedule will be much more flexible," I answered automatically, having come up with this line of reasoning prior to the event.

Over the next thirty minutes, we discussed what courses I would be taking through NJ Cyber, after affirming that I indeed qualified for enrollment. In a surprisingly short amount of time, House and I were walking out of the Hilton, a student handbook tucked under my arm and a paper with my username and password written down, though they didn't provide me with a laptop. House had remained blissfully silent for most of the meeting, so he didn't insult Mrs. Karol enough to ruin my chances at enrollment.

I started that Monday, which was surprisingly quick. Overall, the day had been a success. When House and I got in the car, I gave him an odd look, curious as to why he hadn't said anything once we were free of the hotel. "House?"

"Hmm?"

"Um, thanks."

"Ew, don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Be...you."

"Oh, gee, thanks!" I snapped.

"Skip the teary-eyed gratitude. This helps get you out of my hair. It's purely selfish." He climbed into the driver's side of the car, and I clambered in the passenger side.

"Afraid my opinion of you is too high?"

"Your opinion of everyone is too high."

We pulled away from the curb and hit the road. "Well, even so. Thanks for being an adult for an hour."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it."