All The Kings Horses-House MD fic Part 2
Disclaimer: I am but a fangirl playing in a pond
Set: On/After “Humpty Dumpty” Season 2
THANKS: To my husband Ryan Witt for editing this and dealing with my drivvel
Rated: PG-13
Wilson watches House watch the rain absently through windows.
“Cuddy feels guilty about not diagnosing psittacosis any earlier?”
“I think so”
“There’s no way she could have”
“No….no way she could have” House pauses reflectively, “It’s raining.”
While the double meaning wasn’t apparent to anyone else but House, it didn’t change the fact that his entire demeanor gave way to a questioning. Dr. James Wilson is extending his friend a courtesy by not prying in the moment. The truth is House is seldom in a state where he’s not contemplating something, but the aberration lies now in the sadness expressed.
“I gotta go” There’s no consolation in Wilson’s voice trying to disrupt the uncomfortable silence. House gives him a nod goodbye.
When Greg gets home there’s one missed call and one message. He knows that the missed call is from Cuddy and what she would have said is something to make him anxious enough to call back if it wasn’t translucent enough to show he cares. Wilson would be the one to leave a message 90 percent of the time and sure enough….
“I’m here to talk if you want--not that you will” the disapproval oozed from his voice, “You’d be best making it in before 12 because you also have clinic duty and if you have any shot to actually avoid her…..g’night House”
The search of her home may not have been a wash medically , but personally? After they got back the case did its job in convincing him that the only other motive was to stumble upon something to lord over her, but once it was done the justification dissolved; the delusion crumbled. House wanted evidence of something else entirely.
“20 bucks says I can get through this door in twenty 20 seconds”
“You’re on” Chase dared.
“Count me in” Foreman upped the ante.
It was easy taking money from them to thrive in the mystery of false, FALSE, pretense.
“You been doing a little handy-man work for Cuddy yourself?” Eric asked
House explains “Someone as obsessive and insecure as Cuddy probably has 3 extra keys hidden within 10 feet of her door”
“Oh and you consider obsession a negative quality”
The fellow retorts sardonically with a grin.
It’s all too easy to disguise curiosity beneath lewd behavior, to deflect to Chase for a shrine in her drawer if all you maybe looking for is a single picture of yourself that would balance out the one of her.
(FLASHBACK 2 YEARS AGO PPTH HALLOWEEN CHARITY BALL)
“ So where are the seven dwarfs?” House ponies up alongside Cuddy at the make-shift bar at the clinic desk all too casually.
“That’s Snow White”
“Right, Prince Charming then”
Cuddy swirls her 5th mojito around clad in a Sleeping Beauty costume.
“Doesn’t exist” The answer is curt followed quickly by her throwing back her drink in a gulp.
“And they call me caustic”
She attempts to fight the grin from his reply and fails miserably.
“Hey the Disney theme was not my call”
“I know, I figure Wilson pitched it, he looked far too eager belting out ‘I Just Can’t Wait To Be King’ earlier during the karaoke in that lion costume.
Lisa chuckles softly and by the time her vision recalibrates long enough to realize House has purposely wrapped his Mickey Mouse ears around his chin, it’s too late.
“The deal was 2 hrs off clinic duty for 2 hrs here”
“It’s been 2 and a half and if you trusted me to get my own costume…”
Her hands act on their own virition reaching out the short distance and placing the plastic around his head upright. Palms linger around his cheeks savoring the feel of his stubble.
“If that I could, you’re just such a dick.”
“Wait--hold that right there.” House grabs an old-school polaroid camera and snaps a photo.
“House!”
“Bet Wilson I could make you genuinely smile….that and I want to blackmail the hell outta the rest of my team, win/win”
“I should go home and get a few hours sleep”
“You need a ride?”
“Aren’t you Wilson’s DD?”
“Well I won’t be long, unless…”
“Shut up House”
The drive is quiet neither talking out of respect for a carefully developed social contract. Alone in the light seemingly surrounded by everyone and everything is safe, even if things fell by the wayside. When they get in front of her home the buzz begins to really hit making personal armor as contrived as the sky-blue silk she’s engulfed in.
“Prince Charming would be boring.” It’s said wryly placing a short, but no less searing, kiss to his lips. The alcohol affecting her judgement has no grasp on her fine-motor skills. Lisa exits the car leaving her purse behind and without missing a beat dips down grabbing a key beneath a giant flower pot.
(End Flashback)
-----------
Wilson breezes into Cuddy’s office with an unusual spring in his step.
“Aren’t we chipper this morning.”
“And aren’t we…… sarcastic.”
“Sorry just….”
“Still feeling guilty.” It’s a statement. Cuddy shrugs transparently in response to Wilson’s White-noise.
James is always good as a sympathetic ear, but his consolative nature doesn’t last long.
“Found this in clinic” He places it down on her desk and allows it to speak for itself.
Lisa’s smirk is apparent as she glances ruefully. Her gaze bounces above the file.
“That’s rich-I’ll see that he gets it, anything else?”
“Yeah, have you seen Stacy?” It was a litmus test, but not one that she passed by any stretch of the imagination as her eyes dull and her smile forces itself not to knit in a line. The Dean of Medicine was unmistakably ecstatic their representation was MIA for the next week on business.
“She’s out”
Being friends with Stacy as he was he still couldn’t help to find amusing how refreshed, dare he say delighted, Cuddy sounded when she responded. He’s sweet not naive and it is because of this he finally puts together why Stacy is so “curious” about House’s “curiosity” in the first place.
When Wilson reaches his office he finds House loitering on his couch tossing the giant tennis ball.
“Hypothetical question Jimmy….if you could only have one flavor of icecream the rest of your life, chocolate or vanilla, which would you choose?”
“Well the parlor ran out of chocolate, you’re allergic to vanilla, and you’re clearly not into strawberry so I’d say you’re screwed”
“Allergic?” House stops tossing and sits up trying to contain a boyish chuckle rippling from his stomach.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“That you’re strawberry”
“A gay joke isn’t going to get you out of this”
“You clearly already know….what do you want diagrams, a how-to guide, maybe we can give a demonstration.”
“You lied to me for years about this….why?”
“It was one night Wilson…..one”
“Then why hide it?”
(FLASHBACK MICHIGAN)
It’s 5 am already. House peaks at the clock through Cuddy’s dark curls. His arm is still lobbed over her body. The last traces of moonlight stream through the window to trace her jawline to her mouth and it takes everything inside him not to wake her. His thoughts are cut severed by a loud crack of thunder in the distance. When he attempts to untangle himself her body turns toward his deflecting the absence of heat and stirring of motion. She’s semi-conscious with closed eyes, but even if they were in the midst of a stark black there’d be no hiding the cheshire grin.
“What time is it?” She whispers
“About 5:15” It’s then he notices how long it’s taken him to leave, how long he’s been stalling. Her face feels the air and instinctually finds his lips for a kiss. They dual for a moment each lick and suck postponing separation.
“Mmm you better go”
“YYup-I’ll see ya”
“Yeah, you will” She opens one eye sleepily to emphasize, but the cheeky, matter-of-fact tone itself left him unable to doubt it.
On the way back to his apartment it’s raining and it’s exactly the type of rain you want to walk in, slow and manageable. The drops are cleansing soaking his skin and hitting his being like all the possibilities of things he’s never seriously contemplated his entire college career; an actual relationship.
He wakes up hours later to the phone ringing not waiting for his customary 3 + rings because he swears he remembers sometime in the mutual pursuit throughout the week (or was it in the only half-drunken sexual blur of last night) that they’d exchanged numbers.
“Hello” He answers eagerly
“Is this Gregory House?”
“This is.”
“This is Dean Welks Secretary, we’d like to meet with you today.”
It’s still pouring outside. The rain had picked up. There’s an infinance of drops pounding the pavement, metal, and earth, but the thunder is nowhere to be found.