wouldn't it be nice?
Hm. Ok. So , I finished this one about 3 months ago. How come I hadn't posted it yet? I cannot believe this. LOL But here it is now. :) House/Cuddy, of course!
Wouldn't it be nice?
I was sitting on my couch, looking through the window in the living room; the sun was fading away and the moon and the stars would take its place in a few minutes. I had nothing on my mind but the mental picture I had taken of my former soon-to-be daughter, my thoughts concerning her and her only. I really had hoped the name ‘Joy’ for the baby would do justice to the meaning of the noun, and the beautiful little girl I had been waiting for for years would finally make my life complete.
I, Lisa Cuddy, would never have a family of my own; there wouldn’t be someone to carry my genes with them. I really shouldn’t have gotten attached to the green-eyed little beauty - but, let’s face it: no one could tell the biological mother would give up so out of the blue like that.
I sighed, still staring out the window, my eyes and the area around them still a little reddish from the tears I had been shedding until a few minutes before. I wondered what would make me feel better: just stay alone for a while, so I would have time to process it, or have someone by my side, talking to me and trying to soothe me. Either way, I thought the sadness would be persistent and stick with me.
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I was sitting on my piano bench - long-time pals Scotch Bottle and Glass lying on top of the instrument - playing something I had been composing for a few days and had just finished. My fingers were running through the ivory keys of the piano, but I wasn’t really paying attention to the melody coming from it. My mind was elsewhere.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Cuddy and little Joy. I really felt very sorry for her - after all, I had been watching her struggles from the beginning and had even helped her.
I’ve never really been known as a guy who finds it easy to express my feelings, so I’d never admit this to anybody… but as much as I love being Cuddy’s ‘baby’, and as much as I knew having this huge competitor in tiny, fat, drooling baby form would make me extremely jealous, I couldn’t help but recognize that - aside from bringing the obvious difficulties (it would mean yet another thing to worry about, as if there weren’t enough - her almost social-life-depriving job and, well, me) - a baby would bring happiness to Cuddy’s life. And that was something she really needed. Besides, let’s be honest: a happy Cuddy equals a happy House. She may even be nice enough to not make me do my clinic hours once in a while.
Then I realized: I couldn’t let her by herself there. It wasn’t right. Cuddy was probably a mess and suffering like hell and she just shouldn’t be alone. I had to at least try to comfort her. So I stood up, grabbed my keys and cane, hopped on my motorbike and made my way to Cuddy’s.
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I heard a surprising and unexpected knock on my door. I could tell it had been wood on wood - that was the surprising and unexpected part. One of the ‘wood’s was my front door and the other one could only mean one thing: House was here.
Oh God, this was so not the time to deal with him…
I almost didn’t answer, but I knew it would be useless because I know how incredibly stubborn he can be. I turned the door’s knob - yes, there he was. I just hoped he would be a little more caring, though I didn’t really believe he would.
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She opened the door. God, she was beautiful, even with her hair all messed up and her face red from all the crying. Twenty years of knowing each other and Cuddy still never ceases to amaze me.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I walked past her and she closed the door behind her.
“So, House…would you mind telling me what brings you here on this beautiful night?” she asked me, an obvious hint of sarcasm and bitterness on her slightly husky voice.
“I just felt really cheerful today and I wanted to share it with you,” I replied, obviously sarcastic as well. Cuddy raised her eyes and looked at me disapprovingly. “I’m so sorry for you,” I continued, emphasizing the adverb of intensity. “I know I don’t often let it show, but I have to make sure you know that you can always count on me.”
We were about two feet apart; my back was against the wall. She was looking down, her arms crossed on her chest.
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My head might have been down, but my peripheral vision has always been very good. I didn’t want to look directly at House when he made that confession - once again that day, he was being unpredictable. I was nearly crying. There was way too much happening on that October 28th for me to handle.
I could see him taking a step forward, and his right arm being consciously lifted up to grab my shoulder. I must have surprised him when I suddenly buried my head on his chest and started crying all over again, but oddly, he accepted it and we hugged. I thought that was weird - I wasn’t used to this caring House, but I just ignored this doubtful part of me that was trying to speak its mind. We stayed there, holding on to each other, and a few seconds later I lifted my gaze once again. We were no longer hugging, but looking very deeply into each other’s eyes. I don’t remember any other moment in my life being like this one. Another tear was about to come out of my eye, but before it had time to stream down my face, House, a little out of the blue - though I believe it was bound to happen - kissed me. Passionately, clumsily, perfectly. Our mouths weren’t quite lined up, but it just felt so good to be with him and for the moment I didn’t feel that lonely anymore.
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But then I woke up, almost falling from my couch.
It had all just been a dream, filled with a kind of wishful thinking, perhaps. But that almost unbelievable dream was what it took to make me do something I was supposed to have done quite some time ago.
Mentally checking my list of what I needed, I grabbed my keys, cane, black leather jacket and, of course, some courage and left my house to go to Cuddy’s.
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Someone knocked on my front door. I was sitting on the floor, my back against the recently painted wall - money and time wasted, basically thrown in the trash, I thought. I left the room that was supposed to be my daughter’s to answer the door, curious to find out who it was. Given the circumstances, I had in my mind Wilson, Cameron, perhaps Kutner.
But then I opened the door. There he was, his tall and handsome and somewhat dark figure - the last person I thought I’d see at that moment. I wasn’t really in the mood for what I thought he had to offer, but I let him in anyway.
“It’s really not the greatest time for gloating.”
Wouldn't it be nice?
I was sitting on my couch, looking through the window in the living room; the sun was fading away and the moon and the stars would take its place in a few minutes. I had nothing on my mind but the mental picture I had taken of my former soon-to-be daughter, my thoughts concerning her and her only. I really had hoped the name ‘Joy’ for the baby would do justice to the meaning of the noun, and the beautiful little girl I had been waiting for for years would finally make my life complete.
I, Lisa Cuddy, would never have a family of my own; there wouldn’t be someone to carry my genes with them. I really shouldn’t have gotten attached to the green-eyed little beauty - but, let’s face it: no one could tell the biological mother would give up so out of the blue like that.
I sighed, still staring out the window, my eyes and the area around them still a little reddish from the tears I had been shedding until a few minutes before. I wondered what would make me feel better: just stay alone for a while, so I would have time to process it, or have someone by my side, talking to me and trying to soothe me. Either way, I thought the sadness would be persistent and stick with me.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I was sitting on my piano bench - long-time pals Scotch Bottle and Glass lying on top of the instrument - playing something I had been composing for a few days and had just finished. My fingers were running through the ivory keys of the piano, but I wasn’t really paying attention to the melody coming from it. My mind was elsewhere.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Cuddy and little Joy. I really felt very sorry for her - after all, I had been watching her struggles from the beginning and had even helped her.
I’ve never really been known as a guy who finds it easy to express my feelings, so I’d never admit this to anybody… but as much as I love being Cuddy’s ‘baby’, and as much as I knew having this huge competitor in tiny, fat, drooling baby form would make me extremely jealous, I couldn’t help but recognize that - aside from bringing the obvious difficulties (it would mean yet another thing to worry about, as if there weren’t enough - her almost social-life-depriving job and, well, me) - a baby would bring happiness to Cuddy’s life. And that was something she really needed. Besides, let’s be honest: a happy Cuddy equals a happy House. She may even be nice enough to not make me do my clinic hours once in a while.
Then I realized: I couldn’t let her by herself there. It wasn’t right. Cuddy was probably a mess and suffering like hell and she just shouldn’t be alone. I had to at least try to comfort her. So I stood up, grabbed my keys and cane, hopped on my motorbike and made my way to Cuddy’s.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I heard a surprising and unexpected knock on my door. I could tell it had been wood on wood - that was the surprising and unexpected part. One of the ‘wood’s was my front door and the other one could only mean one thing: House was here.
Oh God, this was so not the time to deal with him…
I almost didn’t answer, but I knew it would be useless because I know how incredibly stubborn he can be. I turned the door’s knob - yes, there he was. I just hoped he would be a little more caring, though I didn’t really believe he would.
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She opened the door. God, she was beautiful, even with her hair all messed up and her face red from all the crying. Twenty years of knowing each other and Cuddy still never ceases to amaze me.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I walked past her and she closed the door behind her.
“So, House…would you mind telling me what brings you here on this beautiful night?” she asked me, an obvious hint of sarcasm and bitterness on her slightly husky voice.
“I just felt really cheerful today and I wanted to share it with you,” I replied, obviously sarcastic as well. Cuddy raised her eyes and looked at me disapprovingly. “I’m so sorry for you,” I continued, emphasizing the adverb of intensity. “I know I don’t often let it show, but I have to make sure you know that you can always count on me.”
We were about two feet apart; my back was against the wall. She was looking down, her arms crossed on her chest.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My head might have been down, but my peripheral vision has always been very good. I didn’t want to look directly at House when he made that confession - once again that day, he was being unpredictable. I was nearly crying. There was way too much happening on that October 28th for me to handle.
I could see him taking a step forward, and his right arm being consciously lifted up to grab my shoulder. I must have surprised him when I suddenly buried my head on his chest and started crying all over again, but oddly, he accepted it and we hugged. I thought that was weird - I wasn’t used to this caring House, but I just ignored this doubtful part of me that was trying to speak its mind. We stayed there, holding on to each other, and a few seconds later I lifted my gaze once again. We were no longer hugging, but looking very deeply into each other’s eyes. I don’t remember any other moment in my life being like this one. Another tear was about to come out of my eye, but before it had time to stream down my face, House, a little out of the blue - though I believe it was bound to happen - kissed me. Passionately, clumsily, perfectly. Our mouths weren’t quite lined up, but it just felt so good to be with him and for the moment I didn’t feel that lonely anymore.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
But then I woke up, almost falling from my couch.
It had all just been a dream, filled with a kind of wishful thinking, perhaps. But that almost unbelievable dream was what it took to make me do something I was supposed to have done quite some time ago.
Mentally checking my list of what I needed, I grabbed my keys, cane, black leather jacket and, of course, some courage and left my house to go to Cuddy’s.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Someone knocked on my front door. I was sitting on the floor, my back against the recently painted wall - money and time wasted, basically thrown in the trash, I thought. I left the room that was supposed to be my daughter’s to answer the door, curious to find out who it was. Given the circumstances, I had in my mind Wilson, Cameron, perhaps Kutner.
But then I opened the door. There he was, his tall and handsome and somewhat dark figure - the last person I thought I’d see at that moment. I wasn’t really in the mood for what I thought he had to offer, but I let him in anyway.
“It’s really not the greatest time for gloating.”