rp for l_cuddy_md
House waited until he was out of sight from the bar to stop and brace his hand against the wall. The way he’d landed on the floor when Dean tripped him up jarred his leg; it was throbbing sharply. The bruise on his chin where Dean had uppercut him was throbbing, too
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He stepped back from Cuddy and dropped his hand away from hers before limping slowly towards the bed. His limp was a little more pronounced, too, because of the way his leg had been jarred when Dean tripped him over. And the stress of this whole situation, of them fighting - he was subconsciously deflecting his stress to the pain in his leg.
He sat with a weary sigh on the end of the bed and took to rubbing his thigh, watching Cuddy approach the bed to sit next to him. He dropped his gaze down to his lap once she was beside him. House had no idea if Cuddy wanted to actually say anything, or if she just wanted him to sit with her in silence.
He rubbed his thigh a little firmer and, just to break the awkward silence, muttered, "Asshole tripped me." Saying that reminded him of the bruise on his jaw, which then reminded him of what else had happened in the bar. "Pulled a knife on me, too."
House had no idea if Dean had actually intended to use that knife or if it was just to intimidate him. Regardless, he'd certainly hadn't wanted to stick around to find out.
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"He what?" She turned to look at House, a shocked look on her face. A punch was one thing--a stupid macho thing-- but tripping? Dean was half House's age and able-bodied. There was no excuse for that kind of cheap trick. And a knife? She didn't really know Dean, but she was disgusted to find she'd so completely misread him.
"I really am going to kill the son of a bitch," she muttered. She took in the way House was rubbing his thigh and looked up at his face. "How bad did he mess up your leg? Do you need...?"
She hesitated because she really hated to feed into his drug use, but if he had a legitmate reason for needing pain relief she didn't want to deny it.
"Do you need something extra for the pain?"
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"Fell flat on my face," he replied sullenly. And really, Dean was lucky he didn't do anything to cause serious harm to his leg. He probably wouldn't have thought twice about snapping Dean's neck just out of excruciating pain alone.
He nodded; he didn't realise how much he was craving Vicodin out of both pain and stress, until Cuddy offered him something for his pain. "Yeah. I'm in a lot of pain."
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She dragged her medical bag out of the closet and rummaged through the contents. "I've got Percocet," she said, tossing a bottle of the narcotic pills at him. A second later she tossed another bottle at him. "And take some ibuprofen, try to keep any inflammation down."
She pushed the bag back in the closet with her foot and went to the bathroom to get him a glass of water. She happened to catch sight of herself in the mirror and stopped, taken aback by just how bad she looked. She took a moment to splash her face with cold water, then filled the glass for House.
"Here," she said, handing the glass to him as she sat down again.
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He didn't need water to chug down pills. But Cuddy leaving the room, out of his sight... He darted his eyes back down to the pills in his hand, checked to make sure Cuddy couldn't see him and before he could second guess himself or before he got caught, he quickly slipped a pill into his pocket. One for later, when he needed one, not when Cuddy said he could have one.
He then tipped the contents back into the bottle, all except for one pill, which he kept in his hand. He'd take it with water in front of Cuddy so that she wouldn't think that he'd taken any. He then tipped out some ibuprofen just as Cuddy reemerged from the bathroom with the glass.
"Thanks," he murmured, swapping her the pill bottles for the glass. Not without giving the Percocet bottle a longing glance, though. He tossed the pills back and swallowed a large gulp of water. The knowledge that he'd just taken oxycodone made him feel instantly a little calmer. He downed the rest of the glass, feeling thirsty, and handed the glass back to Cuddy. As he held it out to her, he took the opportunity to study her face. She looked like an absolute mess. He had an impulse to fix it somehow, to do something so he wasn't so bothered by her drained appearance.
He glanced quickly around the room for a box of tissues, which he saw were way over the other side of the room on the dresser. Well, he wasn't getting up to get those. He had nothing on him, either. No tissues or handkerchiefs. He either had the choice of just sitting there and trying to ignore how she looked, or do something. After a moment of awkward deliberation, he stretched his hand out to her and tentatively brushed her hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Then, in an impulsive act of affection, he cradled her chin against the crook of his finger and tilted her face up to look at him.
"That look doesn't suit you," he joked weakly.
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She relaxed a little when he took the pills and handed the bottles back to her without argument. She set them and the water glass on the floor. She'd just turned back to him when he brushed her hair away from her face. She looked away as he caught her chin, too self-conscious about her appearance to meet his eyes.
"I know," she murmured. "Just one of many reasons I don't let anyone see me cry." She reached up and grasped his hand, pressing her cheek against his knuckles before moving it away from her face. "Don't have anyone to blame for it but myself this time."
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He didn't say anything to Cuddy's remark that she was to blame, because what was there to say? Plus, now that the worst of his anger had left him, House was starting to realise that he probably overreacted earlier, with the things he'd said to her. Calling her a whore, telling her she was pathetic, saying hurtful things because he himself had felt hurt. Though he meant it at the time when he said it, he didn't really think she was a whore. He was starting to regret ever saying that to her. He could remember the look of utmost remorse and devastation on her face when he'd been firing his attacks at her, and that didn't make him feel any better, either.
He didn't want to apologise for the things he'd said, because never said sorry, no matter how regretful he was of his actions. And he didn't want to leave, not now that he'd calmed down. And he wasn't ready to forgive her. So, that left him with little clue what to do.
He peered down at his hands uselessly, then glanced sideways at Cuddy. Sighing, he stretched his arm back out to her, cupping the back of her head with his hand, and he tugged her awkwardly towards him. He wasn't the hugging sort, not by a long shot. He didn't feel particularly comfortable embracing Cuddy, but he didn't really know what else to do. It seemed a better option than sitting there in awkward silence.
"Come here," he murmured quietly, and pulled her right in until he was cradling her head against his chest, her face pressed in against his shirt.
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She suddenly remembered something she'd intended to tell House the next time they were together. She should've told him the moment she found out, but just because they were in a relationship didn't mean they were living in each other's pockets. She'd figured the next time she saw him would be soon enough, but it had kind of gotten lost in all the yelling and crying.
"It was negative," she said quietly, her head still resting against his chest. And how screwed up was it that she'd actually felt a pang of disappointment? She didn't want to have a baby here--there was no doubt in her mind about that. But she had felt a strange sort of loss when she saw the negative pregnancy test. She could think that it was a reaction to knowing that her time for having children was running out while they were stuck in the hotel and her disappointment was a general reaction to the knowledge she might never have the chance to have children.
"The pregnancy test," she clarified. "It was negative."
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"Hmm?" he murmured questioningly. Then she explained what she meant, and the memory of how terrified he'd been of Cuddy falling pregnant came suddenly rushing back. Crap, in the midst of all the shit that had just gone down, he'd forgotten all about the pregnancy thing. What a time to be reminded, right after all that confrontation. But being reminded now made him tense up - until it sank in that the test had been negative.
A feeling of weary relief flooded into him. "Oh," he replied. Thank fucking god. That would've been the last thing he needed. The last thing they both needed. He stroked her hair a couple of times, then lowered his head so his cheek was pressed against the top of Cuddy's head.
He felt so relieved to hear that the test was negative, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer against him. "Thank god," he muttered.
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She'd wondered, though, why House and Stacy had never had children. Stacy hadn't had children with Mark either, so maybe she didn't want kids. Then there was Wilson, married three times and never had kids. They all seemed to end up infertile and alone. Hell, maybe it was God. Maybe He knew something they didn't and had decided none of them were fit to be parents.
Boy, that was a cheerful thought.
She shifted position slightly, so she fit more comfortably against him. She dropped her hand to his thigh, tracing abstract patterns against the denim with her thumb. After a moment her eyes closed as she enjoyed the relative peace, wanting to hold on to it.
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He lifted his hand to her head again, stroking her hair a few times as he listened to the in-out rhythm of her breathing. He dropped his hand away after a few moments and sat up a little straighter, looking across at the door. To leave, or not to leave... He felt a bit too tired and numb to work out what was the best option. Perhaps it was best they got some space between them, have some time to get over what happened. But that would mean thinking about it, and right now House didn't want to think any further about Cuddy being with Dean, about the fight that ensued, about any of it. He wanted to ignore it.
"Think I better..." he reluctantly began. Think I better leave, he was going to say. He shifted forward on the bed a little, pulling away from Cuddy. Instead of standing up, though, he rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands with a sigh.
"Suppose I better go," he finally said when he lifted his face from his hands again.
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Besides, she missed him when he wasn't around, even when House being around meant a lot of arguing and sniping and even tears. There was something about his presence that reassured her, grounded her. She felt...adrift when he wasn't close enough to see or touch.
But she'd promised she wouldn't fight him if he wanted to leave as long as he sat with her for a moment. He had, and so she had to let him do what he felt he needed to do.
"I understand why you want to leave." Why you don't want to be around me but she didn't say that. She clasped her hands together in her lap and stared at her knees. "But I want you to know you don't have to...that I don't want you to go."
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He dropped his head back into his hands for a moment, sighed and then pushed himself up from the bed. "Probably for the best," he said, not really convinced by his own words. He reached for his cane and his eyes fell on Cuddy, on the way she was sitting there looking almost... lost. He couldn't find it in him to tell her to stop being pathetic, not when he himself wasn't even sure he wanted to leave.
"I'll be back later." For his pill, at least. Anything else remained to be seen. He stayed standing on the spot, looking at Cuddy. He found himself wishing he could do something to nurture her, because he didn't like seeing Cuddy look so upset. And he kind of felt he owed it to her after the hurtful things he'd said out of anger. He just wasn't very good at being nurturing.
"You going to be okay?" he asked lamely.
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She looked up when House hesitated, just standing there, looking at her. The smile she forced on to her face was so false it hurt the muscles to hold it in place, but she was determined to not let House see her being so hopelessly pathetic again.
"Of course, I'll be fine." She got up and followed a couple of steps behind him as he went to the door, as if doing something normal would somehow prove she was fine. Holding the door open she told him, "I'll be here...when you need your pill."
Once he'd headed toward his own room, she locked the door behind him. She turned so that her back was against the door and slid down until her ass hit the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest. The whole ugly scene started playing through her mind again. And then again. And once again just in case she'd missed anything. Eventually she pressed her head against her knees to muffle her sobs, even though there was no one left to hear them.
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