Endorphins
To make up for the long gap between my last chapters, here’s a new fic. On the other hand, this may not make anyone happy, cause it’s depressing as hell.
Five months into their relationship and House and Cuddy had been fighting more than usual.
It was inevitable, in some ways-the end of the “glory of you” phase, those endorphins just a bit less het-up, the newness of it all fading slightly. They were still madly in love and still enjoying an off-the-charts sex life, but some quotidian concerns had begun to creep in.
For one, there was clinic duty. When they first began seeing each other, House was a veritable Clinic Duty All-Star, always on time, deftly handling several patients at once, even volunteering to work overtime. But once he felt that he had passed some sort of model boyfriend test, he slowly went back to his old slacker ways.
Then there were predictable domestic concerns: He’d forget to the put the milk back in the fridge and it would spoil. He’d come home late without calling. He’d sit on his ass playing video games as though Cuddy were some sort of hired maid service.
In the beginning, they were in their own little private bubble. The minute Rachel went to bed, they were all over each other. At the office, they’d sneak into the bathroom for quickies, surreptitiously grab each other under the table at staff meetings, text each other all the dirty things they couldn’t wait to do to each other when they got home. That was still the case, but Cuddy found herself craving a social life that didn’t only include her sexy, surly roommate. But he never wanted to go out. “You’d really like my friends Jane and Mike,” she’d say. “They’re a lot of fun. Mike used to be a professional surfer.” “I like you better,” he would say, pulling her toward him. When she did manage to drag him out, it rarely went well. If he wasn’t brazenly daydreaming, he was being infuriatingly rude.
But the biggest fight had to do with his apartment. He was spending all his time at her place at this point, he even had his own drawer, but she wasn’t prepared to fully commit.
“Why am I paying a mortgage on my apartment when I basically already live with you?” he groused.
“I’m not ready yet,” she replied.
“Why aren’t you ready yet?”
“I. . .don’t know. Moving in together is a big step.”
“It’s semantics. We already do live together.”
“If it’s the money, I can chip in. . .”
“You know it’s not the money, Cuddy.”
“Then why the rush?”
“Why the delay?” he would counter.
They’d had this fight tonight, and it was a little more intense than usual. He accused her of not taking the relationship seriously, of toying with him, keeping him at arm’s length. She accused him of having no patience, being irresponsible, never considering the long term consequences of his actions.
They’d gone to sleep huffily, turning away from each other, punishing each other with the silent slopes of their backs, and Cuddy woke up at 3 in the morning, knowing-with that sixth sense lovers have-that he was gone from the bed.
His side was still warm, so he couldn’t have been gone long. She put on her robe and stepped into the living room.
That was when she saw him, sitting on the couch, his body coiled, his brow coated with sweat, cutting his forearm with a knife.
“What the hell are you doing?” she screamed, rushing up to him. He hastily dropped the knife into the bucket he had under him. He had a towel wrapped tightly around his arm. It was rapidly turning red.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he hissed. “I couldn’t sliced open an artery.”
“Are you out of your mind?” she said, rushing up to him, taking the towel off his arm to inspect the damage.
The cut was clean, surgical. He wouldn’t need any stitches. She gave him back the towel and went to the bathroom to get bandages and antiseptic ointment.
“My leg hurt,” he said, pathetically, when she returned. “Cutting myself releases. . .”
“I know. Endorphins. Not in my home, House. What if Rachel had seen you?”
“That’s all your concerned about? If Rachel had seen me? What about my excruciating pain?”
She sat next to him, began cleaning the wound with a Q-tip and the ointment. He winced.
“I am worried about your pain,” she said, quietly. “What’s going on?”
“I have a giant hole in my leg. Or maybe you conveniently forgot about that.”
“House. . .”
He looked down.
“I don’t know. It just hurts. And since I had no Vicodin handy. . .”
“Don’t say that,” she said sharply.
“I’m not jonesing for Vicodin,” he said, calmly. “I’m just in a lot of pain. The Advil barely made a dent.”
“Is this . . . because of our fight?” she asked.
“Yes, Cuddy. Everything’s about you. Even my pain.”
“Okay,” she said, holding up her hand defensively. “I’m sorry.”
There was a long pause.
“You don’t want me here,” he said quietly.
She sighed. So it was about their fight.
“House, of course I want you here. I love you.”
“Then why won’t you let me put my apartment on the market?”
“Because I have a three year old daughter. We can’t make this permanent until we’re both sure.”
“I’m sure,” he said.
“Well, then that makes one of us.”
He scowled.
“You can be a real cunt, you know that?”
She stood up, angrily. “Here, bandage it yourself,” she said, roughly throwing the gauze and surgical tape at him.
He caught them, then grabbed her arm, stopping her from storming away.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You know I’m a dick when I’m in pain. We’ll do it your way. We’ll take it slow.”
She inhaled, then sat back down next to him. She finished tending to his arm, then said: “I want you to start seeing Dr. Nolan again.”
“What?”
“I mean it. I don’t think you ever should’ve stopped seeing him in the first place.”
“I don’t need to see him. I’ve never been happier,” he protested.
“Yeah, and that’s why I found you cutting yourself on my couch in the middle of the night.”
“Physical pain and mental pain are not the same thing,” he said.
“And yet with you, they conveniently overlap.”
“I don’t need a shrink.”
“I would think that a man wanting to move in with his girlfriend and her three-year-old daughter would take his own mental health a little more seriously.”
“Now that sounds curiously like a threat,” he said.
“It’s not a threat. It’s a statement of fact.”
“I’m fine. Tonight was an aberration. It won’t happen again.”
She looked at him, disappointment registering on her face.
“Okay, House. Fine. Whatever you want. I’m going back to bed.”
He watched her walk away, dismayed.
Ten minutes later, he climbed into bed next to her, put his arms around her from behind.
“Thank you for bandaging my arm,” he whispered, pulling her toward him
“You’re welcome,” she said, not quite ready to forgive him yet.
“I thought about what you said,” he said. “I’m going to call Nolan tomorrow. Start therapy again.”
“Oh House,” she said, turning to him and kissing him on the lips. “I’m so happy. So proud of you.”
“Nothing wrong with the occasional mental tune up,” he said, kissing her back.
She began to wrap her legs around him, kiss his chest, but then stopped.
“Your leg?” she said.
“Is about to feel a whole lot better,” he said, devouring her.
########
“I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you here,” Nolan said, smiling knowingly.
“Okay, okay, get it out of your system,” House said. “I called you a quack last time I saw you.”
“A faith healer, actually. And then you stormed out dramatically, never to return,” Nolan said.
“And yet. . .here I am.”
“Here you are. But why?”
“Just checking in. Making sure I’m still the poster child for mental health.”
“I understand that you’ve been seeing Dr. Cuddy,” Nolan said.
“Have you been keeping tabs on me?”
“Doctors gossip,” Nolan said. “That’s good news, right? It’s what you wanted.”
“It’s everything I wanted.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
“Of course. We make these kinds of decisions together.”
“Is she why you’re here?”
“What part of ‘we make these kinds of decisions together’ didn’t you understand?”
“So no pressure? No, ‘get back into therapy or I’m ending it’?”
“Why would you even say that?”
“Because I know you, House. And I don’t believe you would come back to me unless there was some kind of ultimatum.”
“She may have suggested it. . .”
“Why?”
“No reason. Just wants you to look under the hood to make sure there are no leaky psychological pipes.”
“Did you two have a fight?”
“A fight?”
“Several fights?”
“All couples have fights.”
“What kinds of fights do you have?”
House shrugged.
“The usual stuff. I don’t help enough around the house. I forget to put down the seat in the john. I don’t like her friends enough, that sort of thing.”
“Around the house? You’re living together?”
“Not technically.”
“So you still have your apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Your idea or hers?”
House folded his arms.
“We both agreed that it’s wise to take things slow,” he said.
“Okay,” Nolan said, skeptically. “So what was the latest fight about. The one that led to her suggest you restart therapy?”
“I was cutting myself.”
Nolan furrowed his brow.
“Cutting yourself?”
“It’s what all the teenage girls are doing these days,” House said. “I saw it on tumblr.”
“You cut yourself to relieve pain? To release endorphins.”
“Give that man a medical license. I mean, a real one. Not this whole psychiatrist scam.”
“I thought your pain was being managed.”
“You don’t manage excruciating pain. The pain’s always there, doc. Some days are worse than others.”
“Why?”
“Because the world is unfair.”
“In my experience, your physical pain is directly related to your mental health.”
“Have you been talking to Cuddy?”
“Is that what she thinks too?”
House gave a half shrug, but didn’t answer.
“What are you upset about?”
House scratched his head.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? I’m afraid when things get too good.”
“Because happiness doesn’t last.”
“Bingo.”
“Has she given you any reason to think it won’t last?”
“No,” House said, looking at his hands.
“You sure about that?”
“Everything’s great. Stop trying to fish for something that’s not there.”
“How’s the sex?”
“Have you ever heard my theory that all psychiatrists are basically pervs who want to hear about other people’s sex lives?”
Nolan gave a slightly conciliatory shrug and said, “So, how is it?”
“Best I’ve ever had-and it’s not even close.”
“That’s good. But it also can be bad.”
“In what twisted world is great sex bad?”
“It can mask a lot of problems in a relationship. Act as an all-purpose salve.”
“Again I say, what part of that is bad?”
“If you know that sex is the only thing bonding you, it can make you feel . . . unstable.”
“That’s ridiculous. We have a lot more than sex between us.”
“Good. Like what?”
House thought about that for a second.
“Like …work.”
“She’s your boss, right?”
“Only at work. We don’t get into that role-playing stuff in the bedroom.”
“How’s that?”
“Fine.”
“No issues at all there, everything hunky dory?”
“I didn’t say hunky dory. I wouldn’t say hunky dory, actually. Who even says that?”
“Any issues?”
“I mean. . .probably what you’d expect.”
“Pretend I’m slow. Spell it out for me.”
“Pretend. Good one.”
“Cute House.”
House sighed.
“In the past, when I fucked up at work, it stayed at work. Now I bring it home.”
“And what happens when you bring it home?”
“Silent treatment. No sex. Sometimes she kicks me out.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Tell her that.”
“Does she often withhold sex as a means of punishing you?”
“No. She wants it as bad as I do.”
“And the silent treatment?”
“She has her moods. . .”
“Let’s talk more about the fight that led you to cut yourself.”
“I never said there was a fight.”
“No, you said, you had a kind of freeform anxiety over her leaving you. Why?”
House shrugged again.
“House, you don’t cut yourself over freeform anxiety. You cut yourself because something very specifically triggered you.”
House folded his arms, looking down at his Nikes.
“She doesn’t want me to move in.”
“So it’s not a mutual decision?”
“No. I think we should live together. Everything’s going great.”
“Do you want to move in because everything’s going great or because it’ll mean she thinks everything’s going great?”
“I don’t see the distinction.”
“I get the sense that you’re very concerned with keeping Dr. Cuddy happy.”
“Have you seen Dr. Cuddy? You’d be concerned, too.”
“Has she given you any reason to think she’s not happy?”
“Well, not wanting me to move in is one clue.”
“What does she say about that?”
“That she has a kid. That she has to be cautious.”
“That makes sense, right?”
“Right.”
“So why did you get so upset?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I said, I don’t know,” House snapped. “Isn’t it your job to explain the deepest inner workings of my brain to me?”
“No, actually it’s my job to get you to draw conclusions about your behavior on your own.” He looked at the clock on his desk. “Why don’t we end the session here and I’ll give you some homework?”
“Fine, but you can’t charge me overtime for that.”
“Figure out why it upsets you so much that Dr. Cuddy doesn’t want you to move in.”
“I want one thing. She wants another. It’s upsetting.”
“Cut-yourself upsetting?”
“Apparently.”
“Just think about it, House. We’ll talk more next week.”
####
When House got home, he wanted to be alone to process the session but Cuddy, of course, had a million questions.
“How was it?”
“Okay,” he said.
“Just okay?”
“I mean, it was therapy, not a trip to Disney World.”
“Are you going to go back?”
“Weren’t those your terms?” he said, pointedly.
“There are no terms,” she sniffed. “I love you. I just want you to be happy House.”
“I have an appointment scheduled for next week,” he said, his voice softening.
“Good,” she said, smiling at him.
“Good,” he said back, putting his arms around her and kissing her on the lips.
When they parted, he said, “All this shrinking of my brain has made me hungry. What’s for dinner?”
“Chinese, pizza, Indian, subs-you decide,” she said, handing him takeout menus.
He chuckled knowingly and scanned the menus.
#####
Later that week, they had another fight-this time because House forgot to pick up Cuddy’s dry cleaning on the way home (“God forbid I ask you for one tiny favor”)-and it turned into yet another referendum on House’s inadequacies as a partner.
The following Tuesday, he was back in Nolan’s office, fiddling with his cane.
“So have you thought about it?” Nolan said.
“I’ve thought of little else,” House said.
“And?”
“I think Cuddy is having second thoughts about being with me,” he admitted.
“Why?”
“Because I’m a fucking disaster. Would you date me?”
“Why are you a disaster?”
“I’m a selfish prick.”
“Cuddy obviously doesn’t think so.”
“Oh, but she does. She was literally saying so the other night.”
“Then why is she with you?”
“I ask myself that question all the time.”
“Does she tell you that she loves you?”
“Yes.”
“Does she tell you why?”
“No.”
“Why do you think she loves you?”
“I honestly have no clue.”
“Does she ever compliment you? Tell you how great you are? How proud she is of you?”
“No,” House said. Then he thought about it. “Well, she told me she was proud that I was going back into therapy.”
“Not quite what I had in mind.”
“And the first day. The day we got together. She told me I was the most incredible man she’d ever known” He swallowed hard. “Since then, she’s been less complimentary.”
“She’s hard on you.”
“I guess.”
“It almost feels like you’re …auditioning for the role of her partner.”
House began playing with the fringed edge of a velvet pillow.
“Yeah, sometimes it feels that way.”
“Let me ask you something: Did you feel that way when you were with Stacy Warner?”
House gave a slight laugh.
“No.”
“It was more of an equal partnership between you two, right. A team?”
“I suppose.”
“So why do you put up with this from Dr. Cuddy?”
“Put up with what?”
“Her making you feel so bad about yourself.”
“She doesn’t make me feel about myself. She makes me want to be a better man.”
“Who says you need to be a better man?”
“Everyone who’s ever met me.”
“Not Stacy Warner. You just said so yourself.”
“That was a lifetime ago. Before I changed.”
“How have you changed?”
“Older, more bitter, less able to walk without falling over. Or hadn’t you noticed?”
“You’re not going to like this, House, but I feel like if you stay with Lisa Cuddy you’re never going to feel adequate. She’s always going to make you feel like you’re not good enough for her.”
“That’s because I’m not.”
“Of course you are.”
“It’s your job to be on my side. That’s what I pay you for. I don’t think you’re seeing things clearly.”
“It’s her job to be on your side.”
“She is!”
“I don’t think so, House. I think she makes you feel like shit about yourself. She makes you feel insecure, lesser. She makes you wake up in the middle of the night and cut your arm.”
“That’s bullshit!” House said, getting agitated. “You know nothing about her!”
“I’m sorry. I’m here to give my therapeutic opinion. And in my opinion, Lisa Cuddy holds you back. You’re with her precisely because she won’t fully let you in. She confirms your worst feelings about yourself. It is my suggestion, as your doctor, that you end your relationship with her.”
House stood up.
“You’re a moron! She’s the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”
“House, I think it would be better if you sat back down.”
“And I think it would be better if you fucked off.”
“I understand that you’re upset.”
House gave a somewhat malicious grin.
“You have no idea how upset I am. But here’s your first hint: You’re fired.”
He stormed toward the door.
“House, let’s talk about this.”
“Talk to yourself.”
And he slammed the door loudly behind him.
######
When he got home that night, Cuddy was sitting at the table, doing her bills.
“How did it go?” she asked, looking up.
“Good,” he said, not quite making eye contact.
“So you’ll be going back next week?”
He attempted a smile.
“Of course,” he said.
To be continued…
Five months into their relationship and House and Cuddy had been fighting more than usual.
It was inevitable, in some ways-the end of the “glory of you” phase, those endorphins just a bit less het-up, the newness of it all fading slightly. They were still madly in love and still enjoying an off-the-charts sex life, but some quotidian concerns had begun to creep in.
For one, there was clinic duty. When they first began seeing each other, House was a veritable Clinic Duty All-Star, always on time, deftly handling several patients at once, even volunteering to work overtime. But once he felt that he had passed some sort of model boyfriend test, he slowly went back to his old slacker ways.
Then there were predictable domestic concerns: He’d forget to the put the milk back in the fridge and it would spoil. He’d come home late without calling. He’d sit on his ass playing video games as though Cuddy were some sort of hired maid service.
In the beginning, they were in their own little private bubble. The minute Rachel went to bed, they were all over each other. At the office, they’d sneak into the bathroom for quickies, surreptitiously grab each other under the table at staff meetings, text each other all the dirty things they couldn’t wait to do to each other when they got home. That was still the case, but Cuddy found herself craving a social life that didn’t only include her sexy, surly roommate. But he never wanted to go out. “You’d really like my friends Jane and Mike,” she’d say. “They’re a lot of fun. Mike used to be a professional surfer.” “I like you better,” he would say, pulling her toward him. When she did manage to drag him out, it rarely went well. If he wasn’t brazenly daydreaming, he was being infuriatingly rude.
But the biggest fight had to do with his apartment. He was spending all his time at her place at this point, he even had his own drawer, but she wasn’t prepared to fully commit.
“Why am I paying a mortgage on my apartment when I basically already live with you?” he groused.
“I’m not ready yet,” she replied.
“Why aren’t you ready yet?”
“I. . .don’t know. Moving in together is a big step.”
“It’s semantics. We already do live together.”
“If it’s the money, I can chip in. . .”
“You know it’s not the money, Cuddy.”
“Then why the rush?”
“Why the delay?” he would counter.
They’d had this fight tonight, and it was a little more intense than usual. He accused her of not taking the relationship seriously, of toying with him, keeping him at arm’s length. She accused him of having no patience, being irresponsible, never considering the long term consequences of his actions.
They’d gone to sleep huffily, turning away from each other, punishing each other with the silent slopes of their backs, and Cuddy woke up at 3 in the morning, knowing-with that sixth sense lovers have-that he was gone from the bed.
His side was still warm, so he couldn’t have been gone long. She put on her robe and stepped into the living room.
That was when she saw him, sitting on the couch, his body coiled, his brow coated with sweat, cutting his forearm with a knife.
“What the hell are you doing?” she screamed, rushing up to him. He hastily dropped the knife into the bucket he had under him. He had a towel wrapped tightly around his arm. It was rapidly turning red.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he hissed. “I couldn’t sliced open an artery.”
“Are you out of your mind?” she said, rushing up to him, taking the towel off his arm to inspect the damage.
The cut was clean, surgical. He wouldn’t need any stitches. She gave him back the towel and went to the bathroom to get bandages and antiseptic ointment.
“My leg hurt,” he said, pathetically, when she returned. “Cutting myself releases. . .”
“I know. Endorphins. Not in my home, House. What if Rachel had seen you?”
“That’s all your concerned about? If Rachel had seen me? What about my excruciating pain?”
She sat next to him, began cleaning the wound with a Q-tip and the ointment. He winced.
“I am worried about your pain,” she said, quietly. “What’s going on?”
“I have a giant hole in my leg. Or maybe you conveniently forgot about that.”
“House. . .”
He looked down.
“I don’t know. It just hurts. And since I had no Vicodin handy. . .”
“Don’t say that,” she said sharply.
“I’m not jonesing for Vicodin,” he said, calmly. “I’m just in a lot of pain. The Advil barely made a dent.”
“Is this . . . because of our fight?” she asked.
“Yes, Cuddy. Everything’s about you. Even my pain.”
“Okay,” she said, holding up her hand defensively. “I’m sorry.”
There was a long pause.
“You don’t want me here,” he said quietly.
She sighed. So it was about their fight.
“House, of course I want you here. I love you.”
“Then why won’t you let me put my apartment on the market?”
“Because I have a three year old daughter. We can’t make this permanent until we’re both sure.”
“I’m sure,” he said.
“Well, then that makes one of us.”
He scowled.
“You can be a real cunt, you know that?”
She stood up, angrily. “Here, bandage it yourself,” she said, roughly throwing the gauze and surgical tape at him.
He caught them, then grabbed her arm, stopping her from storming away.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You know I’m a dick when I’m in pain. We’ll do it your way. We’ll take it slow.”
She inhaled, then sat back down next to him. She finished tending to his arm, then said: “I want you to start seeing Dr. Nolan again.”
“What?”
“I mean it. I don’t think you ever should’ve stopped seeing him in the first place.”
“I don’t need to see him. I’ve never been happier,” he protested.
“Yeah, and that’s why I found you cutting yourself on my couch in the middle of the night.”
“Physical pain and mental pain are not the same thing,” he said.
“And yet with you, they conveniently overlap.”
“I don’t need a shrink.”
“I would think that a man wanting to move in with his girlfriend and her three-year-old daughter would take his own mental health a little more seriously.”
“Now that sounds curiously like a threat,” he said.
“It’s not a threat. It’s a statement of fact.”
“I’m fine. Tonight was an aberration. It won’t happen again.”
She looked at him, disappointment registering on her face.
“Okay, House. Fine. Whatever you want. I’m going back to bed.”
He watched her walk away, dismayed.
Ten minutes later, he climbed into bed next to her, put his arms around her from behind.
“Thank you for bandaging my arm,” he whispered, pulling her toward him
“You’re welcome,” she said, not quite ready to forgive him yet.
“I thought about what you said,” he said. “I’m going to call Nolan tomorrow. Start therapy again.”
“Oh House,” she said, turning to him and kissing him on the lips. “I’m so happy. So proud of you.”
“Nothing wrong with the occasional mental tune up,” he said, kissing her back.
She began to wrap her legs around him, kiss his chest, but then stopped.
“Your leg?” she said.
“Is about to feel a whole lot better,” he said, devouring her.
########
“I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you here,” Nolan said, smiling knowingly.
“Okay, okay, get it out of your system,” House said. “I called you a quack last time I saw you.”
“A faith healer, actually. And then you stormed out dramatically, never to return,” Nolan said.
“And yet. . .here I am.”
“Here you are. But why?”
“Just checking in. Making sure I’m still the poster child for mental health.”
“I understand that you’ve been seeing Dr. Cuddy,” Nolan said.
“Have you been keeping tabs on me?”
“Doctors gossip,” Nolan said. “That’s good news, right? It’s what you wanted.”
“It’s everything I wanted.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
“Of course. We make these kinds of decisions together.”
“Is she why you’re here?”
“What part of ‘we make these kinds of decisions together’ didn’t you understand?”
“So no pressure? No, ‘get back into therapy or I’m ending it’?”
“Why would you even say that?”
“Because I know you, House. And I don’t believe you would come back to me unless there was some kind of ultimatum.”
“She may have suggested it. . .”
“Why?”
“No reason. Just wants you to look under the hood to make sure there are no leaky psychological pipes.”
“Did you two have a fight?”
“A fight?”
“Several fights?”
“All couples have fights.”
“What kinds of fights do you have?”
House shrugged.
“The usual stuff. I don’t help enough around the house. I forget to put down the seat in the john. I don’t like her friends enough, that sort of thing.”
“Around the house? You’re living together?”
“Not technically.”
“So you still have your apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Your idea or hers?”
House folded his arms.
“We both agreed that it’s wise to take things slow,” he said.
“Okay,” Nolan said, skeptically. “So what was the latest fight about. The one that led to her suggest you restart therapy?”
“I was cutting myself.”
Nolan furrowed his brow.
“Cutting yourself?”
“It’s what all the teenage girls are doing these days,” House said. “I saw it on tumblr.”
“You cut yourself to relieve pain? To release endorphins.”
“Give that man a medical license. I mean, a real one. Not this whole psychiatrist scam.”
“I thought your pain was being managed.”
“You don’t manage excruciating pain. The pain’s always there, doc. Some days are worse than others.”
“Why?”
“Because the world is unfair.”
“In my experience, your physical pain is directly related to your mental health.”
“Have you been talking to Cuddy?”
“Is that what she thinks too?”
House gave a half shrug, but didn’t answer.
“What are you upset about?”
House scratched his head.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? I’m afraid when things get too good.”
“Because happiness doesn’t last.”
“Bingo.”
“Has she given you any reason to think it won’t last?”
“No,” House said, looking at his hands.
“You sure about that?”
“Everything’s great. Stop trying to fish for something that’s not there.”
“How’s the sex?”
“Have you ever heard my theory that all psychiatrists are basically pervs who want to hear about other people’s sex lives?”
Nolan gave a slightly conciliatory shrug and said, “So, how is it?”
“Best I’ve ever had-and it’s not even close.”
“That’s good. But it also can be bad.”
“In what twisted world is great sex bad?”
“It can mask a lot of problems in a relationship. Act as an all-purpose salve.”
“Again I say, what part of that is bad?”
“If you know that sex is the only thing bonding you, it can make you feel . . . unstable.”
“That’s ridiculous. We have a lot more than sex between us.”
“Good. Like what?”
House thought about that for a second.
“Like …work.”
“She’s your boss, right?”
“Only at work. We don’t get into that role-playing stuff in the bedroom.”
“How’s that?”
“Fine.”
“No issues at all there, everything hunky dory?”
“I didn’t say hunky dory. I wouldn’t say hunky dory, actually. Who even says that?”
“Any issues?”
“I mean. . .probably what you’d expect.”
“Pretend I’m slow. Spell it out for me.”
“Pretend. Good one.”
“Cute House.”
House sighed.
“In the past, when I fucked up at work, it stayed at work. Now I bring it home.”
“And what happens when you bring it home?”
“Silent treatment. No sex. Sometimes she kicks me out.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Tell her that.”
“Does she often withhold sex as a means of punishing you?”
“No. She wants it as bad as I do.”
“And the silent treatment?”
“She has her moods. . .”
“Let’s talk more about the fight that led you to cut yourself.”
“I never said there was a fight.”
“No, you said, you had a kind of freeform anxiety over her leaving you. Why?”
House shrugged again.
“House, you don’t cut yourself over freeform anxiety. You cut yourself because something very specifically triggered you.”
House folded his arms, looking down at his Nikes.
“She doesn’t want me to move in.”
“So it’s not a mutual decision?”
“No. I think we should live together. Everything’s going great.”
“Do you want to move in because everything’s going great or because it’ll mean she thinks everything’s going great?”
“I don’t see the distinction.”
“I get the sense that you’re very concerned with keeping Dr. Cuddy happy.”
“Have you seen Dr. Cuddy? You’d be concerned, too.”
“Has she given you any reason to think she’s not happy?”
“Well, not wanting me to move in is one clue.”
“What does she say about that?”
“That she has a kid. That she has to be cautious.”
“That makes sense, right?”
“Right.”
“So why did you get so upset?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I said, I don’t know,” House snapped. “Isn’t it your job to explain the deepest inner workings of my brain to me?”
“No, actually it’s my job to get you to draw conclusions about your behavior on your own.” He looked at the clock on his desk. “Why don’t we end the session here and I’ll give you some homework?”
“Fine, but you can’t charge me overtime for that.”
“Figure out why it upsets you so much that Dr. Cuddy doesn’t want you to move in.”
“I want one thing. She wants another. It’s upsetting.”
“Cut-yourself upsetting?”
“Apparently.”
“Just think about it, House. We’ll talk more next week.”
####
When House got home, he wanted to be alone to process the session but Cuddy, of course, had a million questions.
“How was it?”
“Okay,” he said.
“Just okay?”
“I mean, it was therapy, not a trip to Disney World.”
“Are you going to go back?”
“Weren’t those your terms?” he said, pointedly.
“There are no terms,” she sniffed. “I love you. I just want you to be happy House.”
“I have an appointment scheduled for next week,” he said, his voice softening.
“Good,” she said, smiling at him.
“Good,” he said back, putting his arms around her and kissing her on the lips.
When they parted, he said, “All this shrinking of my brain has made me hungry. What’s for dinner?”
“Chinese, pizza, Indian, subs-you decide,” she said, handing him takeout menus.
He chuckled knowingly and scanned the menus.
#####
Later that week, they had another fight-this time because House forgot to pick up Cuddy’s dry cleaning on the way home (“God forbid I ask you for one tiny favor”)-and it turned into yet another referendum on House’s inadequacies as a partner.
The following Tuesday, he was back in Nolan’s office, fiddling with his cane.
“So have you thought about it?” Nolan said.
“I’ve thought of little else,” House said.
“And?”
“I think Cuddy is having second thoughts about being with me,” he admitted.
“Why?”
“Because I’m a fucking disaster. Would you date me?”
“Why are you a disaster?”
“I’m a selfish prick.”
“Cuddy obviously doesn’t think so.”
“Oh, but she does. She was literally saying so the other night.”
“Then why is she with you?”
“I ask myself that question all the time.”
“Does she tell you that she loves you?”
“Yes.”
“Does she tell you why?”
“No.”
“Why do you think she loves you?”
“I honestly have no clue.”
“Does she ever compliment you? Tell you how great you are? How proud she is of you?”
“No,” House said. Then he thought about it. “Well, she told me she was proud that I was going back into therapy.”
“Not quite what I had in mind.”
“And the first day. The day we got together. She told me I was the most incredible man she’d ever known” He swallowed hard. “Since then, she’s been less complimentary.”
“She’s hard on you.”
“I guess.”
“It almost feels like you’re …auditioning for the role of her partner.”
House began playing with the fringed edge of a velvet pillow.
“Yeah, sometimes it feels that way.”
“Let me ask you something: Did you feel that way when you were with Stacy Warner?”
House gave a slight laugh.
“No.”
“It was more of an equal partnership between you two, right. A team?”
“I suppose.”
“So why do you put up with this from Dr. Cuddy?”
“Put up with what?”
“Her making you feel so bad about yourself.”
“She doesn’t make me feel about myself. She makes me want to be a better man.”
“Who says you need to be a better man?”
“Everyone who’s ever met me.”
“Not Stacy Warner. You just said so yourself.”
“That was a lifetime ago. Before I changed.”
“How have you changed?”
“Older, more bitter, less able to walk without falling over. Or hadn’t you noticed?”
“You’re not going to like this, House, but I feel like if you stay with Lisa Cuddy you’re never going to feel adequate. She’s always going to make you feel like you’re not good enough for her.”
“That’s because I’m not.”
“Of course you are.”
“It’s your job to be on my side. That’s what I pay you for. I don’t think you’re seeing things clearly.”
“It’s her job to be on your side.”
“She is!”
“I don’t think so, House. I think she makes you feel like shit about yourself. She makes you feel insecure, lesser. She makes you wake up in the middle of the night and cut your arm.”
“That’s bullshit!” House said, getting agitated. “You know nothing about her!”
“I’m sorry. I’m here to give my therapeutic opinion. And in my opinion, Lisa Cuddy holds you back. You’re with her precisely because she won’t fully let you in. She confirms your worst feelings about yourself. It is my suggestion, as your doctor, that you end your relationship with her.”
House stood up.
“You’re a moron! She’s the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”
“House, I think it would be better if you sat back down.”
“And I think it would be better if you fucked off.”
“I understand that you’re upset.”
House gave a somewhat malicious grin.
“You have no idea how upset I am. But here’s your first hint: You’re fired.”
He stormed toward the door.
“House, let’s talk about this.”
“Talk to yourself.”
And he slammed the door loudly behind him.
######
When he got home that night, Cuddy was sitting at the table, doing her bills.
“How did it go?” she asked, looking up.
“Good,” he said, not quite making eye contact.
“So you’ll be going back next week?”
He attempted a smile.
“Of course,” he said.
To be continued…