#189. Talk about a conversation when what you said was not what you were thinking.
Cuddy probably should've known that asking Wilson out for dinner was going to be a... not a bad idea, as such. A stupidly optimistic one, perhaps. She'd spent time, before Wilson came to pick her up, fussing around with choosing what to wear way more than she probably should have, and spent way too much time rehearsing lines in her head for how she hoped the evening would go. It wasn't like she wanted anything from Wilson relationship-wise - although, she wouldn't deny to herself that she had mildly entertained the thought.
But, no: this wasn't a feeble attempt at trying to nudge her way into a relationship with him as it was to do with finding out about Wilson's stance on having kids; to try and discern whether he'd want to be a facilitator in helping her achieve her goal in falling pregnant. She was fast approaching forty and it wouldn't be too long before her ovaries started to shrivel up. She'd known Wilson long enough to decide he was probably the best person to approach first about this kind of thing before she started looking for options further afield.
The conversation during the car ride to the restaurant and over dinner was pleasant enough, if not a little awkward. It occurred to Cuddy mid-way through the entree that she and Wilson didn't have a whole lot else to talk about besides House and work. As the date progressed, it also occurred to her that she knew a lot less about Wilson than she thought she did. He was a remarkably private person and had a knack for answering her questions without really revealing much about himself. Cuddy couldn't help feeling a little frustrated by this because it made making conversation more trying than she would have liked. Not that Cuddy wasn't a private person herself: she liked to keep her private life carefully separated and detached from her professional life. House certainly made that effort difficult, to be sure, however, and who knew how much House shared about her private life with Wilson, seeing the two were best friends.
The opportunity she'd been hoping for, to ask Wilson about whether he wanted kids, finally presented itself over their main course, and Cuddy was quick to seize the chance while it was there - probably more eagerly than she intended to, in hindsight.
“Do you want kids?” she asked.
“Yes,”, he was supposed to say, according to how the conversation was planned in her head. “Yeah, I've always wanted to kids. A family.”
“Me, too,”, she was going to reply to that kind of response. “Just never seem to land myself the right guy, and...” She'd give a wave of her hand and a short, dry chuckle, and Wilson would give that wry, empathic smile of his.
He'd then make some dry, witty remark, which she'd laugh at in agreement, then ask her something like, “Do you think you ever will have kids?”
She'd shrug with a sigh while reaching for her wine glass. “Need a guy for that to happen.” Maybe she'd give an ironic smile. “Don't seem to have any luck in that department.”
At this point, Wilson would look thoughtful and lean forward. “Technically, you only need sperm for that to happen. IVF is a common practice these days, as you're no doubt fully aware.”
That would be the point where she'd sit forward, too; also with a thoughtful look on her face. “Well, actually...” she'd begin, and Wilson would listen to what she'd have to say, with interest.
That entire conversation she had planned out was instantly scrapped like a scrunched up, discarded wad of paper the moment Wilson asked with a mild air of impatience, “Listen, is there anything in particular you wanted to... hospital business or...?”
Cuddy went blank for a brief second. She wasn't sure if she was more caught off guard by what he'd asked or the way he'd asked it. “Catching up,” she quickly replied. Feeling she needed to justify that response, she added a little clumsily, “I mean, you know... it's not like either one of us has anybody to run home to.”
Wilson gave her an assessing look, like he didn't really believe her. And why would he? She'd never asked him out for dinner before. It took every ounce of effort not to let her cheeks flush with embarrassment. God, she wanted to disappear into the floor, out of sight. “No,” Wilson said before turning his attention back down to his food.
Cuddy stared at him. A sinking feeling weighed down in her stomach, coupled with a feeling of foolishness. She should've known better than to get her hopes up about anything, and she should've known better than to build herself up with preconceived notions of how the evening would go according to how she wanted it to.
She looked down to her meal, suddenly not really interested in finishing it. You idiot, she silently chided herself. She began pushing the food around on her plate with her fork. The awkward silence that fell over the table was uncomfortable, to say the least. She couldn't think of anything else to say right now, either, so she took a small bite of food as an excuse to not have to say anything for the time being.
Lisa Cuddy; House MD; 892 words
But, no: this wasn't a feeble attempt at trying to nudge her way into a relationship with him as it was to do with finding out about Wilson's stance on having kids; to try and discern whether he'd want to be a facilitator in helping her achieve her goal in falling pregnant. She was fast approaching forty and it wouldn't be too long before her ovaries started to shrivel up. She'd known Wilson long enough to decide he was probably the best person to approach first about this kind of thing before she started looking for options further afield.
The conversation during the car ride to the restaurant and over dinner was pleasant enough, if not a little awkward. It occurred to Cuddy mid-way through the entree that she and Wilson didn't have a whole lot else to talk about besides House and work. As the date progressed, it also occurred to her that she knew a lot less about Wilson than she thought she did. He was a remarkably private person and had a knack for answering her questions without really revealing much about himself. Cuddy couldn't help feeling a little frustrated by this because it made making conversation more trying than she would have liked. Not that Cuddy wasn't a private person herself: she liked to keep her private life carefully separated and detached from her professional life. House certainly made that effort difficult, to be sure, however, and who knew how much House shared about her private life with Wilson, seeing the two were best friends.
The opportunity she'd been hoping for, to ask Wilson about whether he wanted kids, finally presented itself over their main course, and Cuddy was quick to seize the chance while it was there - probably more eagerly than she intended to, in hindsight.
“Do you want kids?” she asked.
“Yes,”, he was supposed to say, according to how the conversation was planned in her head. “Yeah, I've always wanted to kids. A family.”
“Me, too,”, she was going to reply to that kind of response. “Just never seem to land myself the right guy, and...” She'd give a wave of her hand and a short, dry chuckle, and Wilson would give that wry, empathic smile of his.
He'd then make some dry, witty remark, which she'd laugh at in agreement, then ask her something like, “Do you think you ever will have kids?”
She'd shrug with a sigh while reaching for her wine glass. “Need a guy for that to happen.” Maybe she'd give an ironic smile. “Don't seem to have any luck in that department.”
At this point, Wilson would look thoughtful and lean forward. “Technically, you only need sperm for that to happen. IVF is a common practice these days, as you're no doubt fully aware.”
That would be the point where she'd sit forward, too; also with a thoughtful look on her face. “Well, actually...” she'd begin, and Wilson would listen to what she'd have to say, with interest.
That entire conversation she had planned out was instantly scrapped like a scrunched up, discarded wad of paper the moment Wilson asked with a mild air of impatience, “Listen, is there anything in particular you wanted to... hospital business or...?”
Cuddy went blank for a brief second. She wasn't sure if she was more caught off guard by what he'd asked or the way he'd asked it. “Catching up,” she quickly replied. Feeling she needed to justify that response, she added a little clumsily, “I mean, you know... it's not like either one of us has anybody to run home to.”
Wilson gave her an assessing look, like he didn't really believe her. And why would he? She'd never asked him out for dinner before. It took every ounce of effort not to let her cheeks flush with embarrassment. God, she wanted to disappear into the floor, out of sight. “No,” Wilson said before turning his attention back down to his food.
Cuddy stared at him. A sinking feeling weighed down in her stomach, coupled with a feeling of foolishness. She should've known better than to get her hopes up about anything, and she should've known better than to build herself up with preconceived notions of how the evening would go according to how she wanted it to.
She looked down to her meal, suddenly not really interested in finishing it. You idiot, she silently chided herself. She began pushing the food around on her plate with her fork. The awkward silence that fell over the table was uncomfortable, to say the least. She couldn't think of anything else to say right now, either, so she took a small bite of food as an excuse to not have to say anything for the time being.
Lisa Cuddy; House MD; 892 words