One Time House Didn't Completely Regret Being Left With Cuddy's Child
Title: One Time House Didn't Completely Regret Being Left With Cuddy's Child
Author: Namaste
Notes and summary: This is all topaz_eyes's fault. She said there was probably a ficlet hidden somewhere inside the moment when House takes a colicky Joy for a motorcycle ride in "Six Times Cuddy Regretted Letting House Anywhere Near Her Child." Then she dared me to write it. What can I say? So this is House's POV of that night, which hopefully manages to be an AU kidfic that actually fits into House's world. PG, about 1,700 words.
Sample: "I don't know what you expect me to do," House said, staring down at the infant dressed in a pink jumper, her face red and her eyes wet with tears. "This isn't my idea of a good time either, you know."
A bottle didn't work. Music didn't work. Picking her up didn't work. Neither did leaving her in the other room and letting her cry it out. The wailing even cut through his noise canceling headphones.
House took them off, tossed them on the desk and stared at the baby as she kicked off the blanket. The blanket fell onto a stack of journals, slid against the glossy paper and fell to the floor, dragging the journals down with it onto the floorboards where they scattered across the living room.
He rubbed his hands across his face. Perfect. Just like the kid to spread chaos everywhere, making a mess just when he had everything right where he wanted it. Like she always did.
She went silent just long enough to take in another gasp of air and let out an even louder scream.
"I don't know what you expect me to do," House said, staring down at the infant dressed in a pink jumper, her face red and her eyes wet with tears. "This isn't my idea of a good time either, you know."
He picked up the phone, started to punch in the numbers for Cuddy's cell, but stopped before he hit the final digit.
Cuddy would gloat for a week if he gave in.
"She's a little colicky, but that shouldn't be a problem, right?" Cuddy had said when she'd dropped off the baby and her things that evening. "She's just a baby. You're tougher than she is, right?" She threw the words back at him that he'd used that morning when she'd dragged herself into the office with dark shadows under her eyes and an extra large cup of coffee in her hand.
"I didn't agree to this," House had started to say, but Cuddy had ignored him, put Joy's car seat on the coffee table, then turned to stab his chest with her finger.
"No," she'd said, "you only chased off my nanny -- the third one in the past two months."
"All I did was ..."
"All you did was claim that Joy was more likely to be exposed to Ebola than the normal child because she went to the hospital's daycare once a week, and that therefore Nancy was more likely to be exposed."
"Statistically speaking ..."
"Ebola." Cuddy had repeated the word slowly, letting each consonant hang in the air.
She'd poked him in the chest one more time, then turned away, put the diaper bag on the couch.
"Bottle," she'd said, putting it on the table next to Joy's car seat. Joy was chewing on three fingers, watching Cuddy's movements.
"Diapers," Cuddy had said, putting them next to the bottle. "Toys, pacifier, formula -- just in case."
"How long is this dinner?"
Cuddy had turned, her hands on her hips. "He's a very important benefactor," she'd said. "He also likes to linger over coffee and gossip. If he'll toss us an extra hundred thousand dollars, it's worth a little more time."
"Did you reserve a hotel room too? Just in case?"
Cuddy had sighed, leaned down over the car seat, her hair falling past her face so House couldn't make out her expression, but he heard a soft kiss, before Cuddy stood up again.
"If she gets colicky, take her for a ride," she'd said. "Joy likes movement."
"Movement," House muttered now as the baby let loose with another cry. He picked her up, settled her against his shoulder, and shuddered as she screamed into his ear.
"Where the hell did she find you anyway?" he asked. "Mommy wants a demon child dot com?"
Naming the baby Joy must have been Cuddy's idea of a joke, some cosmic prank set in motion the night that House had followed Wilson into the shop and saw her there standing next to a crib.
House bounced the baby in his arms, and she seemed to quiet just a bit. He craned his neck to look down at her.
"You urp on this shirt, and you're really going to be in trouble," he said.
Her breath hitched for a moment, and he started to sway from side to side, but stopped short as pain ratcheted up from his leg and into his hips. "This isn't going to work," he said.
He put the baby down again, but her cries only picked up in volume.
Cuddy had left before he'd told her that his car was in the shop.
House sat on his couch, facing Joy in her seat. He put his hands over his ears. It didn't help much.
He picked up the phone and dialed Wilson's home number, but it went to the machine. He hung up without leaving a message, called his cell.
"I'm busy," Wilson said when he answered it.
"Not that busy," House said. "If you were, you never would have answered in the first place."
"That's because you would have just called back five more times until I did answer." House recognized the sounds of the intensive care unit from Wilson's end of the line: the low beeps from a monitor, the wheeze of a ventilator, hushed voices.
"Luckily for you, I don't need you," House said, "just your car."
"Not now," Wilson said, and hung up.
House stared at the phone in his hand for a moment, then back at the baby. She seemed to quiet slightly to just whimpering for a few moments, then picked up steam again.
He sat back against the couch, put his fingers in his ears. That didn't help either. He thought about whiskey, but was pretty sure Cuddy would just bitch even more if she came back and found him passed out in bed, or her kid over the legal limit.
He turned away, saw his leather jacket hanging from the chair, looked from it to the baby and back again.
He reached down into the diaper bag, pulled out a stretchy piece of fabric, wrapped it around himself, then picked up Joy.
"You like movement? You're getting movement," he said.
He held the baby against his chest, feeling her breathing, feeling the heat of her skin against his neck as he wrapped the fabric around both of them to hold her safely against him. He slid on the jacket, then zipped it up until it came nearly to the top of the baby's head.
He paused for a moment, looking down at the wisps of fine blonde hair on the top of her head. It was a warm autumn night, but if the kid ended up with an ear infection, House would just end up with the blame. He reached into the diaper bag again, his fingers finding something soft. He pulled it out, held it in front of himself.
"You have got to be kidding me." The hat was pink and fuzzy with cat ears poking out from either side of it. He looked down at the baby. "I'd scream too if Cuddy came near me with this thing."
It was the only hat in the bag, though, so he rolled his eyes, tied it under her chin, and grabbed his keys.
The jacket muffled her sounds as he stepped out onto the street, and House carefully swung his leg up over the bike, moving slowly so he wouldn't lose his balance with Joy's extra weight.
Once he pulled on his helmet, and started the engine, he couldn't hear her at all, but could still sense her cries -- her deep breaths, the moisture from her tears soaking his shirt.
He pulled away from the curb and out into the dark.
He went around the block twice and sensed her quieting, her breaths growing more steady. Traffic was light, but he hit a red light and she began crying again. He took a longer route out away from the apartment, along a road with fewer traffic lights.
Joy quieted down again and he felt her arms moving against his chest, the fingers of her right hand finding their way to the buttons on his shirt, gripping them, then letting them go again.
House headed south out of town and followed the roads winding past the river, past subdivisions and finally out to the farms.
He could feel Joy settling into slow, deep breaths, her body losing the tight jerking motions she'd had when she was crying. Even her arms and hands calmed down, her fingers curling into the palms of her hands.
It was warm with her small body pressed up against his, and whenever he slowed he could feel her breathing, even feel the faint echo of her heartbeat.
He remembered seeing Cuddy just after she'd brought the baby home, standing there in the yellow nursery, her hand lightly resting on Joy's chest as she slept. She'd had a slight smile on her face, her posture relaxed and at ease for the first time in months.
She'd been happy, House thought, and grinned. And a happy Cuddy, was an easy Cuddy. If she was planning play time with the kid, she wouldn't have as much time to track his every movement. Maybe she'd just sign off on his next request, rather than fighting with him, so she could get home in time for milk and cookies.
"Maybe you're good for something after all, kiddo," House said to the bundle beneath his jacket.
House could tell when Joy finally fell into deep and steady sleep, but he drove a few miles more -- the moonlight shining high above in the night sky, dry leaves skittering across the pavement in the light breeze. When he finally headed back toward town, he drove slowly, easing up for every yellow light rather than trying to beat it.
They rolled past the subdivisions again, and the sprawling neighborhoods packed with oversized houses. At one light he came to a stop, and felt Joy jerk slightly in her sleep. He eased the zipper down to look at Joy's face. Her eyes were closed, the redness finally had gone from her skin. He zipped his jacket up again, and patted the bundle against his chest.
The light turned green, and he headed for home.
Author: Namaste
Notes and summary: This is all topaz_eyes's fault. She said there was probably a ficlet hidden somewhere inside the moment when House takes a colicky Joy for a motorcycle ride in "Six Times Cuddy Regretted Letting House Anywhere Near Her Child." Then she dared me to write it. What can I say? So this is House's POV of that night, which hopefully manages to be an AU kidfic that actually fits into House's world. PG, about 1,700 words.
Sample: "I don't know what you expect me to do," House said, staring down at the infant dressed in a pink jumper, her face red and her eyes wet with tears. "This isn't my idea of a good time either, you know."
A bottle didn't work. Music didn't work. Picking her up didn't work. Neither did leaving her in the other room and letting her cry it out. The wailing even cut through his noise canceling headphones.
House took them off, tossed them on the desk and stared at the baby as she kicked off the blanket. The blanket fell onto a stack of journals, slid against the glossy paper and fell to the floor, dragging the journals down with it onto the floorboards where they scattered across the living room.
He rubbed his hands across his face. Perfect. Just like the kid to spread chaos everywhere, making a mess just when he had everything right where he wanted it. Like she always did.
She went silent just long enough to take in another gasp of air and let out an even louder scream.
"I don't know what you expect me to do," House said, staring down at the infant dressed in a pink jumper, her face red and her eyes wet with tears. "This isn't my idea of a good time either, you know."
He picked up the phone, started to punch in the numbers for Cuddy's cell, but stopped before he hit the final digit.
Cuddy would gloat for a week if he gave in.
"She's a little colicky, but that shouldn't be a problem, right?" Cuddy had said when she'd dropped off the baby and her things that evening. "She's just a baby. You're tougher than she is, right?" She threw the words back at him that he'd used that morning when she'd dragged herself into the office with dark shadows under her eyes and an extra large cup of coffee in her hand.
"I didn't agree to this," House had started to say, but Cuddy had ignored him, put Joy's car seat on the coffee table, then turned to stab his chest with her finger.
"No," she'd said, "you only chased off my nanny -- the third one in the past two months."
"All I did was ..."
"All you did was claim that Joy was more likely to be exposed to Ebola than the normal child because she went to the hospital's daycare once a week, and that therefore Nancy was more likely to be exposed."
"Statistically speaking ..."
"Ebola." Cuddy had repeated the word slowly, letting each consonant hang in the air.
She'd poked him in the chest one more time, then turned away, put the diaper bag on the couch.
"Bottle," she'd said, putting it on the table next to Joy's car seat. Joy was chewing on three fingers, watching Cuddy's movements.
"Diapers," Cuddy had said, putting them next to the bottle. "Toys, pacifier, formula -- just in case."
"How long is this dinner?"
Cuddy had turned, her hands on her hips. "He's a very important benefactor," she'd said. "He also likes to linger over coffee and gossip. If he'll toss us an extra hundred thousand dollars, it's worth a little more time."
"Did you reserve a hotel room too? Just in case?"
Cuddy had sighed, leaned down over the car seat, her hair falling past her face so House couldn't make out her expression, but he heard a soft kiss, before Cuddy stood up again.
"If she gets colicky, take her for a ride," she'd said. "Joy likes movement."
"Movement," House muttered now as the baby let loose with another cry. He picked her up, settled her against his shoulder, and shuddered as she screamed into his ear.
"Where the hell did she find you anyway?" he asked. "Mommy wants a demon child dot com?"
Naming the baby Joy must have been Cuddy's idea of a joke, some cosmic prank set in motion the night that House had followed Wilson into the shop and saw her there standing next to a crib.
House bounced the baby in his arms, and she seemed to quiet just a bit. He craned his neck to look down at her.
"You urp on this shirt, and you're really going to be in trouble," he said.
Her breath hitched for a moment, and he started to sway from side to side, but stopped short as pain ratcheted up from his leg and into his hips. "This isn't going to work," he said.
He put the baby down again, but her cries only picked up in volume.
Cuddy had left before he'd told her that his car was in the shop.
House sat on his couch, facing Joy in her seat. He put his hands over his ears. It didn't help much.
He picked up the phone and dialed Wilson's home number, but it went to the machine. He hung up without leaving a message, called his cell.
"I'm busy," Wilson said when he answered it.
"Not that busy," House said. "If you were, you never would have answered in the first place."
"That's because you would have just called back five more times until I did answer." House recognized the sounds of the intensive care unit from Wilson's end of the line: the low beeps from a monitor, the wheeze of a ventilator, hushed voices.
"Luckily for you, I don't need you," House said, "just your car."
"Not now," Wilson said, and hung up.
House stared at the phone in his hand for a moment, then back at the baby. She seemed to quiet slightly to just whimpering for a few moments, then picked up steam again.
He sat back against the couch, put his fingers in his ears. That didn't help either. He thought about whiskey, but was pretty sure Cuddy would just bitch even more if she came back and found him passed out in bed, or her kid over the legal limit.
He turned away, saw his leather jacket hanging from the chair, looked from it to the baby and back again.
He reached down into the diaper bag, pulled out a stretchy piece of fabric, wrapped it around himself, then picked up Joy.
"You like movement? You're getting movement," he said.
He held the baby against his chest, feeling her breathing, feeling the heat of her skin against his neck as he wrapped the fabric around both of them to hold her safely against him. He slid on the jacket, then zipped it up until it came nearly to the top of the baby's head.
He paused for a moment, looking down at the wisps of fine blonde hair on the top of her head. It was a warm autumn night, but if the kid ended up with an ear infection, House would just end up with the blame. He reached into the diaper bag again, his fingers finding something soft. He pulled it out, held it in front of himself.
"You have got to be kidding me." The hat was pink and fuzzy with cat ears poking out from either side of it. He looked down at the baby. "I'd scream too if Cuddy came near me with this thing."
It was the only hat in the bag, though, so he rolled his eyes, tied it under her chin, and grabbed his keys.
The jacket muffled her sounds as he stepped out onto the street, and House carefully swung his leg up over the bike, moving slowly so he wouldn't lose his balance with Joy's extra weight.
Once he pulled on his helmet, and started the engine, he couldn't hear her at all, but could still sense her cries -- her deep breaths, the moisture from her tears soaking his shirt.
He pulled away from the curb and out into the dark.
He went around the block twice and sensed her quieting, her breaths growing more steady. Traffic was light, but he hit a red light and she began crying again. He took a longer route out away from the apartment, along a road with fewer traffic lights.
Joy quieted down again and he felt her arms moving against his chest, the fingers of her right hand finding their way to the buttons on his shirt, gripping them, then letting them go again.
House headed south out of town and followed the roads winding past the river, past subdivisions and finally out to the farms.
He could feel Joy settling into slow, deep breaths, her body losing the tight jerking motions she'd had when she was crying. Even her arms and hands calmed down, her fingers curling into the palms of her hands.
It was warm with her small body pressed up against his, and whenever he slowed he could feel her breathing, even feel the faint echo of her heartbeat.
He remembered seeing Cuddy just after she'd brought the baby home, standing there in the yellow nursery, her hand lightly resting on Joy's chest as she slept. She'd had a slight smile on her face, her posture relaxed and at ease for the first time in months.
She'd been happy, House thought, and grinned. And a happy Cuddy, was an easy Cuddy. If she was planning play time with the kid, she wouldn't have as much time to track his every movement. Maybe she'd just sign off on his next request, rather than fighting with him, so she could get home in time for milk and cookies.
"Maybe you're good for something after all, kiddo," House said to the bundle beneath his jacket.
House could tell when Joy finally fell into deep and steady sleep, but he drove a few miles more -- the moonlight shining high above in the night sky, dry leaves skittering across the pavement in the light breeze. When he finally headed back toward town, he drove slowly, easing up for every yellow light rather than trying to beat it.
They rolled past the subdivisions again, and the sprawling neighborhoods packed with oversized houses. At one light he came to a stop, and felt Joy jerk slightly in her sleep. He eased the zipper down to look at Joy's face. Her eyes were closed, the redness finally had gone from her skin. He zipped his jacket up again, and patted the bundle against his chest.
The light turned green, and he headed for home.