A Year In Misery Almost Sort Of: Chapter Twenty
Title: A Year In Misery Almost Sort Of
Chapter: 20/21
Pairings: House/Cuddy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't sue me.
Summary: Cuddy recalls her past and the relationship she had with House during the college days.
Start from the beginning
OR
Cuddy knew House. It was that simple. When she saw him many years later lying in the hospital bed because of his infarction, she wondered many things that had nothing to do with medicine. She wondered if he remembered her, how he remembered her, and of course, if he had changed.
Quite quickly, Cuddy found out he hadn’t changed. He still held the same interests and he still insulted people with the same intellect. He was a little older, a bit sharper, and perhaps a bit harder. But, through all that, Cuddy still knew him because he was still that man she knew so long ago.
“Oh my God, what happened?” She stood from her chair at the table in the med student lounge.
He smiled at her concern as he jammed his crutches into the ground and took a hop forward. She hurried across the room and stared down at his ankle wrapped in bandages.
“Sprain,” he told her. “After I spoke to a group of boy scouts, I was helping this darling mother of three with her groceries and I was almost run over by a teen pushing shopping carts. Fell and sprained my ankle.”
She looked up at him slyly, placing a hand on her hip. “Is this before or after you saved a puppy from a burning building?”
“After,” he answered as if it was obvious. “I can’t very well jump from a burning building carrying a puppy and a baby while I have sprained ankle.”
“Of course,” she replied and headed back to the table. “You were doing something you weren’t suppose to, weren’t you?”
“Did you expect anything less?” he asked following after her, much slower with his crutches.
“No,” she called back to him and seated herself.
Once he finally reached the table, he stared at her until she looked up at him. “Remind me if I ever have to use anything that resembles a crutch again, to kill myself.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes, a smile on her face. He lowered himself into the seat across the table from her. He rested his crutches against the table and watched with annoyance as they slid away from him and clattered to the floor.
“Fantastic,” he muttered and attempted to swipe them from the floor.
“I’ll get them later,” she told him quickly. “Don’t fall off the chair. Are you going to be better enough to walk across the stage?”
“I’ve got almost two weeks, Cuddy.” He straightened himself up in his chair. “I’ll be fine.”
“Just making sure.” She gave a shrug. “It’d be such a shame if you couldn’t walk for graduation.”
“Why?” His eyebrows drew together.
“It’s a big day,” she replied. “Are your parents coming?”
“Nope,” he answered.
“Really?” she asked, concerned. “That-”
“I lied,” he cut off her flatly.
“Oh,” she said. “Sometimes I don’t know when you’re making things up or not.”
He leaned forward. “That’s the beauty of a lie.”
She shook her head. “Lies aren’t beautiful.”
“Says you,” he emphasized and then leaned back. “So, do I get a present or something?”
Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. “For what?”
“For my ‘big day.’” His sarcasm replaced a use of air quotes.
“Not from me, you don’t,” she replied, drawing back slightly.
“I thought ‘big days’ deserved rewards,” he said.
“You can stop saying it like that,” she told him. “And I’m not giving you anything that your dirty mind could come up with.”
“Why would you think it’d be dirty?” he feigned his own confusion.
“Remind me who I am talking to.” She frowned. “You’re staring at my breasts.”
“Sorry?” He brought his gaze to her face. “And House.” She smiled. His eyebrows drew together. “What?”
Her smile grew. “You said House, not Greg.”
“You’re hearing things.” He changed the subject by pointing to a picture on her class notes lying open on the table. “What the hell is that?”
“What?” She looked down at her notebook.
“That thing that looks like a mutated Don Quixote,” he answered.
“It’s a cat,” she mumbled.
“Oh.” He drew back. “That’s a Picasso cat right there.”
“You’re not funny.” She gave him slight attitude in her defense.
“It’s a good thing you’re smart because you’d never pass for an artist.” He raised his eyebrows and let out a sigh acting as if she just dodged a bullet.
She slapped her notebook shut. “Okay, I get it.”
He cocked his head to the side, a smile coming over his face. “Does this mean the Lisa Cuddy doodles in class?”
“I drew that before class,” she informed him.
“That’s right.” He nodded. “You get there twenty minutes early.”
“Fifteen,” she corrected and then lowered her tone. “I like a seat in the front.”
“You know the back,” he paused, drawing her attention, “is where it’s at.”
She put her elbows on the table and then placed her face between her palms. She let out a slight sigh as she stared at him.
“What?” he asked her with annoyance.
She let out a louder sigh. “Nothing.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” He rolled is eyes.
She dropped her arms to the table and held back a laugh. “Pete’s sake? Really?”
“My mother used to say it,” he explained.
“You quote your mother,” she gave a nod, trying extremely hard not to laugh.
“You were using manipulating women sighs,” he accused.
She raised her eyebrows. “Was I?”
“You did it twice,” he pointed out.
“Did I?” She kept up her act of innocence.
He eyed her up with cautious suspicions. “What are you up to?”
She dropped down into a lower tone and gave a deflated shrug. “Nothing. Well, thinking about things you told me not to.”
“Right.” He couldn’t stop his eye roll. “Graduation. I still have two weeks to assault you, offend you, and basically harass you, so don’t get all choked up just yet.”
“It’s less than two weeks,” she said.
“Okay,” he stretched the word out. “Thirteen days then.”
“I’m not sad,” she spoke up. “For the record. I’m glad you’re graduating and moving into your career. It’s just going to be different next year, that’s all.”
“I bet it’ll be a lot easier,” he replied. “More work, but you’ll actually get it done without me jabbing you in the side every three minutes.”
“This was,” she paused and gave a small smile, “a fun year.”
“No goodbyes yet, dear Cuddy.” He used the table to help him stand. “Crutches, please.”
She stood and hurried around the table. She picked up his crutches and handed them to him. He situated them under his armpits.
“Thank you,” he told her and leaned in. “And we’ve still got thirteen more days of fun.”
He turned from her and hobbled from the room. She smirked, almost sadly, knowing that even with the promise of thirteen more days, it didn’t mean that she would get to see him again. She hoped this wasn’t their last meeting and moved around the table to focus back on her studies.
Final Chapter.
Chapter: 20/21
Pairings: House/Cuddy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't sue me.
Summary: Cuddy recalls her past and the relationship she had with House during the college days.
Start from the beginning
OR
Cuddy knew House. It was that simple. When she saw him many years later lying in the hospital bed because of his infarction, she wondered many things that had nothing to do with medicine. She wondered if he remembered her, how he remembered her, and of course, if he had changed.
Quite quickly, Cuddy found out he hadn’t changed. He still held the same interests and he still insulted people with the same intellect. He was a little older, a bit sharper, and perhaps a bit harder. But, through all that, Cuddy still knew him because he was still that man she knew so long ago.
“Oh my God, what happened?” She stood from her chair at the table in the med student lounge.
He smiled at her concern as he jammed his crutches into the ground and took a hop forward. She hurried across the room and stared down at his ankle wrapped in bandages.
“Sprain,” he told her. “After I spoke to a group of boy scouts, I was helping this darling mother of three with her groceries and I was almost run over by a teen pushing shopping carts. Fell and sprained my ankle.”
She looked up at him slyly, placing a hand on her hip. “Is this before or after you saved a puppy from a burning building?”
“After,” he answered as if it was obvious. “I can’t very well jump from a burning building carrying a puppy and a baby while I have sprained ankle.”
“Of course,” she replied and headed back to the table. “You were doing something you weren’t suppose to, weren’t you?”
“Did you expect anything less?” he asked following after her, much slower with his crutches.
“No,” she called back to him and seated herself.
Once he finally reached the table, he stared at her until she looked up at him. “Remind me if I ever have to use anything that resembles a crutch again, to kill myself.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes, a smile on her face. He lowered himself into the seat across the table from her. He rested his crutches against the table and watched with annoyance as they slid away from him and clattered to the floor.
“Fantastic,” he muttered and attempted to swipe them from the floor.
“I’ll get them later,” she told him quickly. “Don’t fall off the chair. Are you going to be better enough to walk across the stage?”
“I’ve got almost two weeks, Cuddy.” He straightened himself up in his chair. “I’ll be fine.”
“Just making sure.” She gave a shrug. “It’d be such a shame if you couldn’t walk for graduation.”
“Why?” His eyebrows drew together.
“It’s a big day,” she replied. “Are your parents coming?”
“Nope,” he answered.
“Really?” she asked, concerned. “That-”
“I lied,” he cut off her flatly.
“Oh,” she said. “Sometimes I don’t know when you’re making things up or not.”
He leaned forward. “That’s the beauty of a lie.”
She shook her head. “Lies aren’t beautiful.”
“Says you,” he emphasized and then leaned back. “So, do I get a present or something?”
Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. “For what?”
“For my ‘big day.’” His sarcasm replaced a use of air quotes.
“Not from me, you don’t,” she replied, drawing back slightly.
“I thought ‘big days’ deserved rewards,” he said.
“You can stop saying it like that,” she told him. “And I’m not giving you anything that your dirty mind could come up with.”
“Why would you think it’d be dirty?” he feigned his own confusion.
“Remind me who I am talking to.” She frowned. “You’re staring at my breasts.”
“Sorry?” He brought his gaze to her face. “And House.” She smiled. His eyebrows drew together. “What?”
Her smile grew. “You said House, not Greg.”
“You’re hearing things.” He changed the subject by pointing to a picture on her class notes lying open on the table. “What the hell is that?”
“What?” She looked down at her notebook.
“That thing that looks like a mutated Don Quixote,” he answered.
“It’s a cat,” she mumbled.
“Oh.” He drew back. “That’s a Picasso cat right there.”
“You’re not funny.” She gave him slight attitude in her defense.
“It’s a good thing you’re smart because you’d never pass for an artist.” He raised his eyebrows and let out a sigh acting as if she just dodged a bullet.
She slapped her notebook shut. “Okay, I get it.”
He cocked his head to the side, a smile coming over his face. “Does this mean the Lisa Cuddy doodles in class?”
“I drew that before class,” she informed him.
“That’s right.” He nodded. “You get there twenty minutes early.”
“Fifteen,” she corrected and then lowered her tone. “I like a seat in the front.”
“You know the back,” he paused, drawing her attention, “is where it’s at.”
She put her elbows on the table and then placed her face between her palms. She let out a slight sigh as she stared at him.
“What?” he asked her with annoyance.
She let out a louder sigh. “Nothing.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” He rolled is eyes.
She dropped her arms to the table and held back a laugh. “Pete’s sake? Really?”
“My mother used to say it,” he explained.
“You quote your mother,” she gave a nod, trying extremely hard not to laugh.
“You were using manipulating women sighs,” he accused.
She raised her eyebrows. “Was I?”
“You did it twice,” he pointed out.
“Did I?” She kept up her act of innocence.
He eyed her up with cautious suspicions. “What are you up to?”
She dropped down into a lower tone and gave a deflated shrug. “Nothing. Well, thinking about things you told me not to.”
“Right.” He couldn’t stop his eye roll. “Graduation. I still have two weeks to assault you, offend you, and basically harass you, so don’t get all choked up just yet.”
“It’s less than two weeks,” she said.
“Okay,” he stretched the word out. “Thirteen days then.”
“I’m not sad,” she spoke up. “For the record. I’m glad you’re graduating and moving into your career. It’s just going to be different next year, that’s all.”
“I bet it’ll be a lot easier,” he replied. “More work, but you’ll actually get it done without me jabbing you in the side every three minutes.”
“This was,” she paused and gave a small smile, “a fun year.”
“No goodbyes yet, dear Cuddy.” He used the table to help him stand. “Crutches, please.”
She stood and hurried around the table. She picked up his crutches and handed them to him. He situated them under his armpits.
“Thank you,” he told her and leaned in. “And we’ve still got thirteen more days of fun.”
He turned from her and hobbled from the room. She smirked, almost sadly, knowing that even with the promise of thirteen more days, it didn’t mean that she would get to see him again. She hoped this wasn’t their last meeting and moved around the table to focus back on her studies.
Final Chapter.