A Year In Misery Almost Sort Of: Chapter Nine
Title: A Year In Misery Almost Sort Of
Chapter: Nine out of ?
Pairings: House/Cuddy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't sue me. I don't own "Can We Still Be Friends" by Todd Rundgren either.
Summary: Cuddy recalls her past and the relationship she had with House during the college days.
Start from the beginning
OR
When times with House were too hard, Cuddy had a special place she could go to in order to remind herself that he was a person and not an irritating piece of unlovable human flesh. Of course, the facts and details of those times were never expressed to anyone. Which was hard because she felt for House. There were times she wanted to defend, to prove to others that he wasn’t always so mean and cold.
Cuddy knew there was a side of him that was comfort. However, she couldn’t name examples. Maybe a few that ended with coldness or began with coldness to which others claimed he merely faked in order to not get fired. She couldn’t speak of the present times of comfort sans coldness because they were too personal to share. And the other times of comfort took place in the college days. Cuddy had always played off those times as if she had known him, but never really knew him. And thusly, she kept her mouth shut.
Her roommate was away for the weekend and therefore, she had the room to herself. She stocked up on food and barricaded herself in. She needed this time to be alone, to deal with her pent up emotions. In order to make sure she stayed on top of her schoolwork, she had forced herself to forget her emotions. However, that led to crankiness and numbness. Two emotions she needed to expel from her body.
So, she cried. She blasted her mixed tape of Todd Rundgren songs, hoping the music that normally soothed her would drown out the sounds of her sobs. She was hurting, she knew. There was too much going on in her mind. After her grandmother’s death, things started to get rough. School was stressing her out, the Gregory House issue wasn’t helping, and she was menstrual. It was quite a lethal combination.
We can’t play this game anymore
But can we still be friends
The lyrics to the playing song made fresh tears start to pour. She swiped at them, but it was no use. She stood, not being able to remain in her bed anymore. She paced the room, glancing once out the window at the darkened night sky.
Things just can’t go on like before
But can we still be friends
She walked to her tape player and jammed her finger on the stop button. She suddenly didn’t care if people could hear her cry because she couldn’t listen to those words anymore. There was a knock on her door. She froze and directed her eyes to the closed door.
“Hello, it’s me. I’ve thought about us for a long, long time.”
She shut her eyes. He was on the other side of her door, clearly aware of her Todd Rundgren musical selection as he quoted lyrics from one of the more popular songs. She shot daggers at the door. She knew he knew she was in there, but she wasn’t planning on opening the door for him.
“I can pick a lock in a minute and a half,” he told her through the door.
She crossed to her bed and collapsed on it. She pulled the covers over her head and tried to ignore the sound of him trying to break into her dorm room. There was a sharp click and the door swung open. She remained under the covers, refusing to give him her full attention.
“Go away!” she shouted, her voice thick with her tears. She realized how pathetic she must sound to him.
“These locks are easier than the ones at the academic buildings.” He shut the door behind him.
“I don’t want you here!” She still refused to come out from under the blankets.
He was examining the books on her desk, the picture of her family. He turned to the lump on the bed. “And I pictured skulls and black.”
She sat up, the blankets falling off her. “Get out! I don’t want to be around you! You’re... everywhere! I’ve changed my study times, but you still show up. I take different paths to avoid you! I can’t stop thinking about you. Even in my room, you won’t leave me alone.”
He took in her appearance and thought about making a crack, but knew there were more important issues at hand. “I can’t leave you alone.”
She stared at him, then opened her mouth to retort. However, she was at a loss for words. He reached into his coat and pulled out a bottle of vodka. He offered it to her.
“You want it straight or do you need-”
She yanked the bottle from his hand, which shut him up. She twisted off the cap and took a long drink. The taste made her grimace and she handed the bottle back to him, hoping she wasn’t going to throw up what she just swallowed.
He stared at her as his fingers slid around the bottle. He smirked before bringing it to his own lips. Her stomach was burning, the flame rising up her throat. Other than that, she wasn’t feeling it. She extended a hand to him and he slipped the bottle back to her.
She took another swig, the taste not as bad the second time around. She handed the bottle back again and he took another drink as well. She flopped back onto her bed. The burning had increased. She figured she probably shouldn’t have had alcohol on an empty stomach.
He set the bottle down on the floor and nudged her with his hand. She scooted over in her bed and he slid off his jacket as he joined her in her bed. He kicked off his shoes and rested on his back next to her.
“You look like hell,” he told her. He felt the need to keep up his persona.
She let out a heavy sigh. “One of those nights.”
“Yeah, men don’t have those nights.”
She turned her head to him and the room swayed slightly before she was able to focus on him. The alcohol had taken effect and she made a mental note not to sit up. He turned his head to her.
“Really?” she asked.
“Not so much crying,” he replied. “Drinking is usually heavily involved. Depends on the person, though. Those are what my intense nights consist of, anyway.”
She nodded a little and then started crying again. She turned onto her side, away from him. She didn’t want him to see her crying. Placing her hands to her face, she tried to keep her sobs silent as her shoulders shook.
He looked on, worried. He wasn’t sure what he should do. After a moment, he turned onto his side towards her and extended an arm around her. Through her tears, she scooted back into him. After several minutes of heavy crying, her tears died down.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. She had lowered her hands and set them alongside her face. Somehow, his hand had made its way into one of hers.
“Don’t be,” he replied. “Crying’s a catharsis. Wouldn’t want you to go postal, now would we?”
She grinned and sniffled. “No, we wouldn’t.” She paused and her voice grew quiet. “Sometimes I think about leaving this. Just... go away somewhere and not be here.”
“You’d never do that,” he told her. “You’re too devoted to medicine. You’re too devoted to this life to leave it.”
“I guess,” she gave a small shrug. “I still think about it though.”
“You’d actually want to leave this and all your hard work?” he was intrigued.
“Sometimes,” she answered. She thought a minute. “But, then I remind myself I’m an adult and I grow up.”
He was staring at her unkept hair, lost in that messy dark hair. He saw her. He saw the woman that hid behind the tough outside she always portrayed. In that moment, he realized there was so much more to her, which made him want to show her that there was something more to him.
She let out a breath. “We’re never going to speak about this night after it ends. What was said. What happened. Ever.”
And they didn’t.
I Want Ten
Chapter: Nine out of ?
Pairings: House/Cuddy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't sue me. I don't own "Can We Still Be Friends" by Todd Rundgren either.
Summary: Cuddy recalls her past and the relationship she had with House during the college days.
Start from the beginning
OR
When times with House were too hard, Cuddy had a special place she could go to in order to remind herself that he was a person and not an irritating piece of unlovable human flesh. Of course, the facts and details of those times were never expressed to anyone. Which was hard because she felt for House. There were times she wanted to defend, to prove to others that he wasn’t always so mean and cold.
Cuddy knew there was a side of him that was comfort. However, she couldn’t name examples. Maybe a few that ended with coldness or began with coldness to which others claimed he merely faked in order to not get fired. She couldn’t speak of the present times of comfort sans coldness because they were too personal to share. And the other times of comfort took place in the college days. Cuddy had always played off those times as if she had known him, but never really knew him. And thusly, she kept her mouth shut.
Her roommate was away for the weekend and therefore, she had the room to herself. She stocked up on food and barricaded herself in. She needed this time to be alone, to deal with her pent up emotions. In order to make sure she stayed on top of her schoolwork, she had forced herself to forget her emotions. However, that led to crankiness and numbness. Two emotions she needed to expel from her body.
So, she cried. She blasted her mixed tape of Todd Rundgren songs, hoping the music that normally soothed her would drown out the sounds of her sobs. She was hurting, she knew. There was too much going on in her mind. After her grandmother’s death, things started to get rough. School was stressing her out, the Gregory House issue wasn’t helping, and she was menstrual. It was quite a lethal combination.
We can’t play this game anymore
But can we still be friends
The lyrics to the playing song made fresh tears start to pour. She swiped at them, but it was no use. She stood, not being able to remain in her bed anymore. She paced the room, glancing once out the window at the darkened night sky.
Things just can’t go on like before
But can we still be friends
She walked to her tape player and jammed her finger on the stop button. She suddenly didn’t care if people could hear her cry because she couldn’t listen to those words anymore. There was a knock on her door. She froze and directed her eyes to the closed door.
“Hello, it’s me. I’ve thought about us for a long, long time.”
She shut her eyes. He was on the other side of her door, clearly aware of her Todd Rundgren musical selection as he quoted lyrics from one of the more popular songs. She shot daggers at the door. She knew he knew she was in there, but she wasn’t planning on opening the door for him.
“I can pick a lock in a minute and a half,” he told her through the door.
She crossed to her bed and collapsed on it. She pulled the covers over her head and tried to ignore the sound of him trying to break into her dorm room. There was a sharp click and the door swung open. She remained under the covers, refusing to give him her full attention.
“Go away!” she shouted, her voice thick with her tears. She realized how pathetic she must sound to him.
“These locks are easier than the ones at the academic buildings.” He shut the door behind him.
“I don’t want you here!” She still refused to come out from under the blankets.
He was examining the books on her desk, the picture of her family. He turned to the lump on the bed. “And I pictured skulls and black.”
She sat up, the blankets falling off her. “Get out! I don’t want to be around you! You’re... everywhere! I’ve changed my study times, but you still show up. I take different paths to avoid you! I can’t stop thinking about you. Even in my room, you won’t leave me alone.”
He took in her appearance and thought about making a crack, but knew there were more important issues at hand. “I can’t leave you alone.”
She stared at him, then opened her mouth to retort. However, she was at a loss for words. He reached into his coat and pulled out a bottle of vodka. He offered it to her.
“You want it straight or do you need-”
She yanked the bottle from his hand, which shut him up. She twisted off the cap and took a long drink. The taste made her grimace and she handed the bottle back to him, hoping she wasn’t going to throw up what she just swallowed.
He stared at her as his fingers slid around the bottle. He smirked before bringing it to his own lips. Her stomach was burning, the flame rising up her throat. Other than that, she wasn’t feeling it. She extended a hand to him and he slipped the bottle back to her.
She took another swig, the taste not as bad the second time around. She handed the bottle back again and he took another drink as well. She flopped back onto her bed. The burning had increased. She figured she probably shouldn’t have had alcohol on an empty stomach.
He set the bottle down on the floor and nudged her with his hand. She scooted over in her bed and he slid off his jacket as he joined her in her bed. He kicked off his shoes and rested on his back next to her.
“You look like hell,” he told her. He felt the need to keep up his persona.
She let out a heavy sigh. “One of those nights.”
“Yeah, men don’t have those nights.”
She turned her head to him and the room swayed slightly before she was able to focus on him. The alcohol had taken effect and she made a mental note not to sit up. He turned his head to her.
“Really?” she asked.
“Not so much crying,” he replied. “Drinking is usually heavily involved. Depends on the person, though. Those are what my intense nights consist of, anyway.”
She nodded a little and then started crying again. She turned onto her side, away from him. She didn’t want him to see her crying. Placing her hands to her face, she tried to keep her sobs silent as her shoulders shook.
He looked on, worried. He wasn’t sure what he should do. After a moment, he turned onto his side towards her and extended an arm around her. Through her tears, she scooted back into him. After several minutes of heavy crying, her tears died down.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. She had lowered her hands and set them alongside her face. Somehow, his hand had made its way into one of hers.
“Don’t be,” he replied. “Crying’s a catharsis. Wouldn’t want you to go postal, now would we?”
She grinned and sniffled. “No, we wouldn’t.” She paused and her voice grew quiet. “Sometimes I think about leaving this. Just... go away somewhere and not be here.”
“You’d never do that,” he told her. “You’re too devoted to medicine. You’re too devoted to this life to leave it.”
“I guess,” she gave a small shrug. “I still think about it though.”
“You’d actually want to leave this and all your hard work?” he was intrigued.
“Sometimes,” she answered. She thought a minute. “But, then I remind myself I’m an adult and I grow up.”
He was staring at her unkept hair, lost in that messy dark hair. He saw her. He saw the woman that hid behind the tough outside she always portrayed. In that moment, he realized there was so much more to her, which made him want to show her that there was something more to him.
She let out a breath. “We’re never going to speak about this night after it ends. What was said. What happened. Ever.”
And they didn’t.
I Want Ten