Gift of the Dead (1.3)
Title: Gift of the Dead
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Characters: House, Cuddy, Rachel Cuddy
Author's Note: This is a prequel to Gift of Screws. This takes place at Halloween (I know: I'm a little behind in terms of
holidays,lol) when Rachel is four/a couple months shy of turning five. This has been split into three sections because of LJ's post limits.
Warning: This fic contains sex. If that bothers you, don't read.
Summary: After Marina's death, House finds himself in charge of babysitting Rachel.
Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two
Disclaimer: The show is not mine.
Of course it was only a matter of seconds before his attention drifted from her irritation to her clothing. In the few minutes they’d been apart, she’d changed into her pajamas, a thin white tank top and matching shorts - all of which were sheer. If he looked carefully enough, he was sure that he would be able to make out the outline of her areolas.
“What were we talking about?” he asked, blinking.
She wasn’t amused. “I understand that this is an inconvenience for your penis, House, but one of us has to think of something other than getting you off.”
“All right,” he muttered into his toothbrush. Quickly giving his teeth one last scrub, he spit into the sink again. “You worry about getting me off, and I’ll hire a new nanny.”
He looked into the mirror to gauge her reaction. Unsurprisingly she wasn’t amused. Arms folded across her chest, she said flatly, “Go put on your pajamas.”
It was a ridiculous order, and it immediately struck him as such. And given how many times she foolishly ordered him to do his clinic hours or made him run unnecessary tests, her command must have been extraordinarily silly if he could instantly recognize that.
She was telling him to get ready for bed? When a half hour hadn’t even gone by since Rachel had fallen asleep? It was absurd.
Nonetheless, he said, “Fine.” He had no intention of going to sleep. But he also didn’t wish for this conversation to be dragged out any longer. And yet, even though that was what he thought, as he started to leave the bathroom, he turned anyway to her. He said, “Don’t think this is all about sex.”
She nodded her head. “I don’t.”
“You can’t do this all on your own. You need help.”
“I know.” Her voice was calm, rational. “But I need good help or else there’s no point.”
This time he was the one to nod his head. However, he’d barely taken a step out the door before he turned to her again. “And just so we’re clear, I’m not the only one in this relationship who needs sex.”
She smirked. “I had no idea.”
It seemed like the right spot to leave her. To be sure, the conversation couldn’t end at a better place; there was nothing more they could agree on or discuss at that moment. She wanted to hire someone, and he wanted that as well. And though she wanted to take her time, which was not what he wanted, he could understand that impulse. So if they stayed and continued talking about it, they were only inviting misunderstanding and inevitable disagreement.
Changing, despite the time, was the reasonable thing to do. But he didn’t leave her side for long. The second he finished changing into a t-shirt and blue pajama pants, he returned to her.
She was spitting out mouthwash into the sink, her body slightly hunched over. He liked that, because it gave him a chance to stare at her ass. But in doing so, he realized something.
“You weren’t wearing underwear.”
Cuddy straightened up abruptly in surprise. “God, you scared me.”
“You weren’t wearing -”
“Yes, I heard you the first time,” she said dryly.
“And?”
“And what?”
“And I’m wondering if there’s any particular reason for that.”
She looked at him, the confusion obvious in her features. “A reason? Like what - like I wanted to be prepared in case you wanted a quickie in my bathroom at work?”
They both seemed to have the same thought at the exact same moment.
“Know what we should have done?” he asked.
“Have sex in my bathroom?”
“Yeah.”
“Well… we’re idiots.”
“No,” he said after a second’s contemplation. “I had a case. And you have an unfortunate prejudice against sex in the office.”
She rolled her eyes before she began the process of removing her make up. Cotton ball and special cleanser in hand, she gingerly started to dab at her eyes. “I don’t think I ever said that.”
“Maybe not in those words exactly,” he admitted slowly as he moved closer to her. He was always fascinating by this particular ritual of hers. Well, maybe it wasn’t taking the make up off exactly; he just always found himself intrigued by her, by the things she did to make herself ready for the day - the way she painted her toes, applied her lipstick. There was something about these small moments, he thought, something about each and every little thing she did that he wanted to memorize though he didn’t know why.
His hands clutching her hips lightly, he pressed himself up against her. “You definitely said no sex.”
She bent down to splash water on her face, which just pushed her ass further into his body. She was warm, the contact threatening to make him hard again. And part of him wanted to hold her there, so he could grind against her.
But the irritation in her voice cut through his growing desire and brought him back to reality.
“I believe there was some context with that comment,” she said sharply.
He tried to remember what had happened, what situation had prompted that conversation. But try as he might, he couldn’t recall details. “I don’t -”
He cut himself off though as the memory hit him. “My patient was a porn star?”
“Yes.” The reflection in the mirror looked angry.
“You’re still pissed -”
“No.”
“Because I took a case where the patient just happened to -”
“She didn’t just happen to be a porn star. You made a case because -”
“She was sick.”
“She had a cold,” Cuddy said knowingly. “Which you knew and didn’t care about, because you thought she was hot. So you wasted everyone’s time so you could watch porn and get paid for it.”
He kissed her shoulder consolingly. “And as I recall, I still came to you afterwards for the happy ending.”
“That’s not the compliment you think it is.”
He reached over and grabbed a towel. Handing it to her, he watched her dry her face off. “So,” he said, bringing them back to the original point. “You were lying when you said you wouldn’t have sex with me in -”
“I didn’t lie,” she said with a scoff. “And that’s not what I said. I said I wouldn’t have sex with you in my office after that stunt.”
He nodded his head. “Exactly.”
“I meant right after.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”
She handed him the towel back. “You could try listening to me.”
As he hung the towel back on the wrack, he fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I did listen. I didn’t understand. There’s a difference.”
“I was clear,” she insisted.
He hugged her to him, kissing the side of her neck as he did so. “Didn’t say you weren’t, so don’t turn this into a thing.”
“I’m not -”
“A little bit, you are,” he interrupted. He was quick to move past that point though. It was obvious that, if he gave her enough time to get angry, she would. And he did not want that to happen. “But I think the more important thing to discuss is the fact that we could have been having sex this entire time in your office and we haven’t. Now that I know we can, I’m gonna have to make up for lost time.”
He caught the reflection of her superior smile in the mirror. It was not a good sign.
“Let’s be clear,” she said instantly. “You go to work to work. You’re not going to have a daily orgy at noon.”
Against her skin, he muttered, “Well if you need to push it back to one every once in a while….”
“I’m serious. This is not an open invitation.”
“So… I can’t have sex with you at -”
She cut him off with an overly dramatic, frustrated sigh. Her hand reaching behind her body, she slipped her fingers into the tiny sliver of space between her ass and his crotch. Briefly she rubbed her palm against the outline of his dick. "Your inability to comprehend nuance tells me I haven't had nearly enough sex with you."
He could have been offended. But the way her hand was starting to make him hard pretty much overrode any irritation he might have felt. His voice deep and low, he said, "It's not my fault my IQ drops when -”
"Three days," she told him calmly. "That's all I ask."
"Three days I'm allowed to have sex with you at work. Ever." Perhaps he should have been grateful for the allowance at all. Given that he'd thought work was off limits altogether, it should have felt like an improvement to get three days. Especially when he could probably stretch three to five to seven to... some other larger number if he played his cards right.
However, it didn't feel like that. Maybe it could have, but the intense disappointment he immediately felt prevented any rational thoughts from getting through to him.
"Three days off between," she corrected.
And then he wasn't sad at all. "Seriously?"
"Not if we're having sex at home. Not if we're not having sex here, because I'm pissed," she told him quickly, perhaps sensing how big the opportunity she'd given him really was. "Just... if we're not getting any here, then once every three days I am willing to -"
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but given the way things are right now with Rachel, you're going to spend quite a lot of time bent over your desk."
She nodded her head. "I know." She pulled her hand away from him and placed it back on the lip of the sink. "I'm aware of how unfortunate all of this is. I don't need you to remind me of -"
"I'm just saying, you might want to reconsider that rate, cause that's a lot of office sex."
She raised an eyebrow. "You think I don't know that?"
"Then I'm surprised you're -"
"Because you're right," she interrupted, not even giving him a chance to finish the thought. "I can't do all of this by myself. I'm going to need to hire someone, and in the meantime, I'm going to need your help."
His eyes narrowed on her. "And this is your way of earning my help? Having sex with me?"
"Of course not." She sounded far more annoyed than she looked, and she appeared pretty agitated in the mirror as it was. "I don't need to bribe you with sex."
"Really? Cause that's what -"
"I’m not bribing you. The past week -"
"Ten days."
"Whatever. This period of time has been awful."
"At least you admit it."
"I've been useless at work, and I can't have you erecting statues to my labia out of frustration."
He kissed her neck once more, this time letting his lips linger a little bit. "Please keep using the words labia and erect in your sentences."
Ignoring the comment, she added, "And if you keep masturbating in the shower -"
"Like you haven't," he said knowingly.
"Dead nannies and my daughter crying don't exactly do it for me, House." In his mind, those things seemed irrelevant. He didn't enjoy listening to Rachel sob or having to pick up the slack Marina had left behind. But those matters didn't matter much at all when he was in the shower and frustrated and letting his mind wander to happier times... which regularly led his memories to stumble upon the image of Cuddy naked and taking it in the ass. And he was about to say that out loud, because she should get that point. But she never gave him the chance. "Besides, the physiology is different. And I'm not calling a plumber, because your semen -"
"So you're interested in having sex at work to protect the pipes?"
Her knuckles turned white - that was how hard she was gripping the sink. Through gritted teeth, she explained, “All I’m saying is we have enough going on right now. And we are better equipped to deal with it if we’re not constantly thinking about sex or fixing problems that arise because we’re not having sex. So if the way we avoid those issues is by having sex every once in a while in my office, fine.”
In all honesty, it sounded like a fair, reasonable proposition. As a way to get him to do what she needed, it hadn’t been an idea he liked; he certainly wasn’t above negotiating for sex, but he didn’t like the possibility of her having sex with him at work only because she needed something from him. That would have made him feel like he was coercing her into something she didn’t really want to do, which made him uncomfortable for obvious reasons. But if she was interested for selfish reasons? He couldn’t find fault in that.
“Okay,” he said with a small nod. “So going by your rules, we have to not have sex for the next three days before -”
“And not annoy me,” she interrupted. “Which you will do if you even think about withholding sex to test -”
“I can assure you I would never purposely not have sex with you.”
Really, she should have known better than to ever think that he would do something like that. There were many things he would do to prove a point or to get what he wanted. Depriving himself of sleeping with Cuddy was not one of them.
He would have liked to have claimed that he’d tried or almost succeeded that one time. But the truth was he had never attempted it. He had always known that there was no point; he would never successfully withhold from her. All she would have to do was bend over or wear a low-cut top, and he wouldn’t want to continue with his plan anymore.
Now would be no different, even if he wanted it to be.
Then again, he didn’t want it to be different.
“I’m just thinking if it’s going to be a good three more days before we can do it -”
“You don’t know that. Rachel could stay in her bed, and we -”
“We both know that’s not going to happen,” he said knowingly. “Which means….” His hands slid under the waistband of her shorts. “We should probably make the most of tonight.”
He let one of his palms slide along her hipbone and over her mound. His fingers ran along her outer lips, and he was not surprised that she was still wet with their combined fluids.
“You think I want to have sex with you again?” she asked calmly, even as he circled her clit with his index finger, even as she took a wider stance to give him better access.
“If you don’t, just tell me to stop.” Less seriously though, he added, “But for the sake of your drain, I urge you to take one for the team here.”
She chuckled softly, reaching down and tugging her shorts off. “Well in that case, okay.”
“If you must?”
“Hardly,” she said, covering the hand on her mound with one of her own. She tried to guide him further downwards, clearly wanting him to finger her.
And that was an unspoken request he could hardly refuse.
“I’ve missed this,” he told her. Slipping two fingers inside of her, he was instantly reminded of all the sex they hadn’t had this past week.
Again.
She was tight and wet and hungry, and it felt nothing short of wrong to have been deprived of her body for so long.
“Me too,” she said, reaching behind her to push down his pajama pants. She could barely get the clothing over his hips, and he had to stop touching her in order to take his pants off altogether.
His fingers slicked with her juices, he stroked himself a few times to make his dick hard. He would have liked to claim that it took him more stimulation than that. Having had sex once today, he felt that, for his ego’s sake, there should have been more effort on her part to get him in the mood.
Of course, had she even considered, say, blowing him to make him hard, it would have ended badly. And by “badly” he meant he would have come down her throat so forcefully he would have knocked out teeth.
When he pictured that possibility in his mind though, he did not imagine the awful ending. Rather he simply saw her on her knees, fucking him with that hot mouth of hers. The second he thought of that, any chance of getting her on the floor or anywhere near a bed was out the window.
He pushed her against the sink, roughly enough that she grunted. His hands on her hips, he made her lean on the countertop as best as he could. It was a small area, and having accidentally hurt her in a situation like this before, he was in control enough to know better than to be too forceful. The mirror, after all, was right in front of her face, and if he smashed her head… she would be pissed.
But if he was going to fuck her, he needed a way to line her body up with his. At least, he needed to do that if he wanted any kind of real penetration. Cuddy understood that; it was clear she did. Because, although she had more than enough of a reason to object, instead she was actually pulling herself up as best she could to give him better access.
Her knees banged against the drawers underneath the sink as she stood on her tiptoes. If that hurt, she didn’t let on. And he didn’t care really. The second she seemed secure, their bodies lined up, he thrust into her hard and fast. She groaned loudly as he buried himself to the hilt.
Immediately House withdrew almost entirely. With just the tip of his cock inside of her, he teased her opening for a moment. He could feel her muscles clenching, trying to encourage him to thrust into her once more. And it worked, he thought - vaguely, the idea never really forming in his head. His gaze trained on her ass and spread legs, it was hard to truly think of anything at that moment, other than how beautiful she was and how lucky he was to have her beneath him.
Eagerly he pushed back into her, his thighs slapping against her. He set a quick, unforgiving pace, thrusting in and out of her with no interest in taking his time. Even with the sink, he still had to crouch a little to truly fuck her, and time meant eventual pain for him. And he was not going to cap the evening with that.
But part of him understood that he was frantic for other reasons as well. They'd had sex once tonight, but it still hadn't been enough. And given the way her pussy welcomed him, wrapped around him, it was impossible to believe that there would ever be a point where he would have had his fill. That just wouldn't ever happen, not when her pert, pale ass bounced with each rough thrust into her, not when she was encouraging to keep going.
"More," she said breathily, her voice low and gravelly. A few stray sounds escaped her parted lips, which were reddened with desire, but they were unintelligible. Coos and hungry noises that only seemed to drive his own need further along, they had no actual meaning to him. But then again, House suspected she could have said any number of words he would usually recognize and he wouldn’t understand any of it.
All he knew in that moment was what he was doing, how it made him feel. His eyes fluttered shut as his hips repeated a pace and pattern long practiced. At the same time, she began to rock side to side (well as best she could anyway, given her position), allowing his dick to rub against her in different angles that somehow made them both all the more wanton.
His hands moved to her hips. The muscles in his legs were beginning to ache - not enough to stop, not enough to make him soft, thankfully. But he knew he couldn’t push himself much further or else his body would rebel, and he would be in serious pain. Wanting to avoid that, he had no choice but to dig his fingers into her hipbones and begin pulling her back in time with his thrusts.
At first she cried out in surprise. She obviously wasn’t expecting the move, and he watched through half-closed eyes as she scrambled to grab hold of the countertop. But quickly those sounds evolved from being ones of shock to ones of need. Though she kept her grip tight on the lip of the counter, she began to push the lower half of her body back of her own volition.
His dick slid into her even deeper, hitting her in just the right way. She was hot against him, that feeling infusing itself with every cell he possessed.
Electricity seemed to crackle within him, his impending orgasm making his body feel white hot. His cheeks were red; his t-shirt slick with sweat. Her cunt squeezed his cock with each rough thrust, his tongue swollen with the urge to get on his knees and lick the juices practically dripping from that sweet little pussy of hers.
One of his hands burrowed underneath her, becoming trapped between the now sticky counter and her stomach. Roughly he pulled her back, her back arching for him. Again she fumbled to avoid falling and hurting herself. But at this point, he suspected they both would have been okay with taking this to the floor if need be. Nothing - not his leg, not Rachel - nothing was going to put an end to this before he filled Cuddy with all of his come.
His arm looped around her waist, he yanked her back further into one of his harsh thrusts. She yelped loudly, her lower lip being assaulted by her teeth to stop herself from screaming. "Oh God," she cried.
She moved her hips more quickly, and he nipped at the spaghetti strap sliding off her shoulder. He was so close, crazed with the urge to come, to consume her, to feel every little bit of her.
Through gritted teeth, he ordered in a husky voice, "Fuck me back, you little bitch."
His thighs slapped against her ass, and her reaction was immediate. She came hard, her feet slipping against the cool tile. Her box squeezing him tightly, he couldn't hold back any longer either.
His orgasm was quick but intense, the rush so powerful that he nearly collapsed on top of her.
They melded together hot and sticky, and if they'd been in bed or on the floor, they probably would have fallen asleep that way - connected and half-naked. But as it was, discomfort was impossible to ignore once the after effects of orgasming dissipated.
She was bent over the sink. Her knees, no doubt, were pink and slightly raw from banging against the cabinets so much. Her hair was a mess of curls sticking out at odd angles. Her pajama top was wet, as much thanks to her body as it was due to the small amounts of water that had splashed around the sink. And behind her, he wasn't much better, with his pajama pants and her shorts carelessly by his ankles and his t-shirt completely soaked through.
His leg hurt as well, though he wasn't about to say that aloud. The less she knew about it, the better, he thought. Whenever he complained, she tended to remember later on that his thigh had been a problem during a particular activity. And then she would be worried that his leg would hurt again, and when it came to sex, he didn't want to fear for a future where she would ask if he could bear to have sex with her. Maybe it was a matter of pride, but he didn't want her to ever think he was too weak to do her.
So although it pained him, he moved with purposeful ease. He didn't say a word to her, just kissed her before putting his pants back on. And it was only when she was busy wiping his come off of her inner thighs with a tissue that he bothered to open the pill bottle. Taking it while she changed, he was sure she would never notice what he was doing. Which meant that she would be less inclined, thankfully, to question whether or not fucking her over a sink was a good idea in the future.
Of course, when put like that, it didn't sound smart at all. It sounded pretty dumb actually, especially when there'd been a bed nearby the entire time. But, he thought as he crawled into said bed, if he couldn't bang a woman that sexy in a myriad of inappropriate and potentially dangerous ways, that would just make him sad. And though it seemed... seedy to hide his pain from her, he knew it was the right thing to do.
In any case, she had enough to worry about right now anyway, he reminded himself. She was worried about Rachel and work and replacing the nanny and all of that, and he wouldn't be helping by giving her something else to consider.
Keeping this from her was the right thing to do he decided.
And he knew that to be true when Cuddy crawled into bed with a smile on her face.
“’Fuck me back, you little bitch?’” she repeated in equal parts amusement and judgment. “Just how much porn have you been watching this past week if that sounds like a good line.” She didn’t seem offended, so he didn’t feel the need to apologize.
Instead he shrugged, as she got underneath the covers. “I needed inspiration for my pumpkin - since you weren’t available.”
“Of course,” she said dryly, scooting towards him.
“I bet you’re rethinking that whole ‘I can’t just hire anyone to be my daughter’s nanny’ argument right now,” he said, as she buried her face into his chest.
“Hardly.” Almost immediately she rolled away from him though. “Change your shirt. You smell.”
He got up out of bed to do just that. On any other day, he might have objected. But at that moment, it didn’t seem like that much of a hassle. He sensed her looking at him in surprise at his obedient behavior; he didn’t usually do what she wanted him to do when he didn’t want to do it without a fight. Tiredly, he realized that that sentence was far more complicated than it needed to be, but his thoughts were scattered now. After everything with Rachel and now sex with Cuddy twice, he was ready to go to sleep. And for that reason, he didn’t point out to Cuddy that she shouldn’t get used to this kind of behavior. Truth be told, he doubted the remark would start a fight, but that didn’t matter. Conversation as a whole seemed beyond what his mind was capable of.
Yet a conversation became inevitable as he pulled on a clean t-shirt. Because she asked at that moment, “Rachel didn’t want to go trick-or-treating?”
He slipped his arms through the appropriate holes in the shirt. His brow knitting itself together, he thought he had said that. “Didn’t I tell you that?”
She nodded her head as he headed back towards the bed. “You did,” she said carefully. “I’m just wondering what happened. I know you couldn’t say something in front of her. So -”
“She didn’t want to go,” he said simply. It was the truth - a vague one, yes, but it was the truth.
Slipping into bed once more, he pulled her close to him. “Better, Mommy?”
Cuddy didn’t say yes or no. She kept her head resting on his arm though, so he supposed it was enough for her. But then again, lying this close to her with her body curled into his, he quickly realized that he almost would have preferred the distance.
“She just… didn’t want to go?” she asked, her gaze roaming over his face for some sort of understanding.
“I asked her if she wanted to go. She said no.” The words came out matter of factly; he was hoping that by being conversational things wouldn’t head into accusatory territory. But if anything, his casualness just made her more suspicious.
Her eyes narrowing on him, she asked, “Really? You -”
“I tried. I -”
“Of course you did. I’m sure you tried -”
“I did,” he fought back. Later on, she might try to deny that she’d doubted him then, but he could hear the disbelief in her voice.
“And she didn’t want to go?”
“No.”
“Just like that?”
He didn’t know how to answer the question. No, it hadn’t been quick and easy. It hadn’t been about the kind of candy she would get or the feeling that she was too mature for Halloween. This had been a choice Rachel had made the second Marina had died and the kid had felt as though it were her fault.
But he had promised not to say anything. Well, not exactly, but if Cuddy found out, the technicalities wouldn’t matter to Rachel. She’d be pissed at him. And perhaps he shouldn’t have cared about that; maybe he didn’t even really, but if she were mad at him, that would just make maintaining his relationship with Cuddy all the more difficult.
At the same time though, what could he say? He couldn’t lie. He could try, he guessed, but it wouldn’t be hard for Cuddy to see beyond that - or to automatically assume he was lying.
Before he could even formulate an answer though, she jumped to her own conclusions. “You didn’t even ask if she -”
“I asked many times, Cuddy. Many times. And she didn’t want to go.”
“And you have no idea why?”
The second’s worth of hesitation on his part was more than enough for her. Sitting up immediately, she said, “If you know something, you need to tell me.”
He went with the lie. “There’s nothing to tell. She didn’t want to go.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “You asked her if she wanted to go, and she said no. And you have no idea why. I’m supposed to believe that you, a man who analyzes my choice in a bra, didn’t ask any questions, didn’t -”
“I didn’t say that,” he interrupted. “You didn’t ask if I asked. I did. She didn’t tell me anything.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Okay,” he said with a shrug. Closing his eyes, he told her, “Then you can ask Rachel yourself tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”
“You know something.” And he did. But he really didn’t want to reveal something to her that, truth be told, should have been Rachel’s choice to tell. Cuddy, however, clearly wasn’t going to let this drop. “I have a right to know,” she said insistently.
“Then talk to Rachel.”
“If you know something -”
“’If?’ You just said I did. Now you’re changing your mind?”
She squeezed his forearm, forcing his eyes to open once more. She wasn’t hurting him by any means, but the sudden touch surprised him into looking at her.
“You have to tell me,” she said earnestly, the need clear in her gaze. “I’m her mother. You don’t have the right to keep secrets with my daughter.” He didn’t say anything. “It’s not your place to -”
“Yeah, it’s also not my place to pick her up from school, feed her dinner, offer to take her trick-or-treating - among other things, but you definitely didn’t have a problem asking me to -”
“This is different.” The tone in her voice left no room for discussion. “And you know that. If there’s something going on, I have a right to know. You need to tell me.”
The awful part of it all was that he agreed with her. He didn’t want to withhold any of what Rachel had told him from her. If anything, he wanted to dump all of that information right on to Cuddy so that she would be the one in charge of making things better. He didn’t want to make things with Rachel any worse than they already were, but not a single part of him was comfortable being the person who knew the truth, who had to make Rachel feel better. That was simply a responsibility he couldn’t handle, nor did he think he should touch.
“House,” Cuddy implored, pulling him from his thoughts.
Instantly he sighed, knowing what he had to do. He had to tell her. Because while Rachel would inevitably be pissed, it was reasonable to assume that Cuddy would find out eventually. Rachel would blab the truth at some point, and then he’d be the guy who hadn’t told, who’d kept this terrible secret.
“Fine,” he said reluctantly and yet with resignation. “I asked her why not.”
“And?”
He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “She didn’t like the costume.”
“She picked it -”
“No,” he corrected. “Marina did. And it wasn’t what Rachel wanted, and they fought about it, and then Marina died and -”
“You said you weren’t going to tell!” a squeaky voice shouted from the hallway.
Both Cuddy and House looked - and saw Rachel, standing in the doorway, with a teddy bear tucked under her arm.
They’d left the door open, he realized. Out of habit, he supposed they’d done it, both knowing that there was a good chance Rachel might join them in bed tonight. And in doing so, they’d had no warning that she was approaching, no indication that she was hearing anything he was saying.
“I hate you!” Rachel snarled before taking off. The sound of tears and running feet were all he heard, her retreating form all he saw.
The one thing he’d wanted to avoid all day had now happened. He’d made a nice dinner and watched movies with her; he’d done everything as well as he could, and it was all gone now. Part of him wanted to make a joke about it, wanted to say that he saw the pussy points disappearing before his eyes. But suddenly it didn’t seem funny.
His girlfriend had demanded from early on that he get along with her kid. And the moment some sort of independent connection had been made, Cuddy had come along and ruined it by insinuating her presence into that friendship or whatever the hell it was. Which he couldn’t deny she had the right to do, but he resented her nevertheless.
“Good job,” he said sarcastically as she got up to go after Rachel.
Truthfully he thought Cuddy would be apologetic. But one heated glare from her told him that she was anything but sorry for what she’d done. “This isn’t my fault,” she hissed. “Maybe if you had told me the second we were alone instead of making me beg to hear what was bothering my daughter, we could have avoided this.”
“Right. Because that’s -”
“Don’t you dare,” she snapped in a deadly voice.
If he let her storm off then, it was not because she was right. Sure, she was in fact right to be upset. He should have told her; he should have texted her what had happened or called her while Rachel was watching movies or done something differently. But if he let her go at all, it was because House didn’t feel all that bad about being wrong.
No matter how he’d done it, the end result was always going to be him getting screwed over. He might have been able to avoid some of the damage, but at the end of the day, Rachel would always be pissed that he told.
And Cuddy would always be mad that her daughter had revealed the truth to him.
She didn’t realize that, of course. He understood that the next week would be her being angry with him, because she’d had to force the truth from him. But it was true nonetheless: she resented that Rachel had confided in him.
Lucky for Cuddy though, Rachel would never trust him with anything again. Of that he was sure. And then he didn’t care at all that both Rachel and Cuddy had gone running from the room, leaving him alone.
Closing his eyes once more, he thought he was alone in this effort to make it all work anyway. Why shouldn’t his bed reflect that truth? In this equation, he was the one removable part. He was the one who could and would go if something happened. They would have each other, and he would have no one. No amount of sex or favors would change that. If there were a problem, he would be the one to get the boot. Because as much as he mattered, he wasn’t ever going to come first for either of them.
Why shouldn’t he have been reminded of that fact?
He frowned, knowing there were no answers to that question.
In the end, he was not surprised when Cuddy didn’t come back to bed that night. If anything, that seemed like the predictable, right choice.
And that, he lamented, was precisely the problem, the thing he feared the most.
The End
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Characters: House, Cuddy, Rachel Cuddy
Author's Note: This is a prequel to Gift of Screws. This takes place at Halloween (I know: I'm a little behind in terms of
holidays,lol) when Rachel is four/a couple months shy of turning five. This has been split into three sections because of LJ's post limits.
Warning: This fic contains sex. If that bothers you, don't read.
Summary: After Marina's death, House finds himself in charge of babysitting Rachel.
Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two
Disclaimer: The show is not mine.
Of course it was only a matter of seconds before his attention drifted from her irritation to her clothing. In the few minutes they’d been apart, she’d changed into her pajamas, a thin white tank top and matching shorts - all of which were sheer. If he looked carefully enough, he was sure that he would be able to make out the outline of her areolas.
“What were we talking about?” he asked, blinking.
She wasn’t amused. “I understand that this is an inconvenience for your penis, House, but one of us has to think of something other than getting you off.”
“All right,” he muttered into his toothbrush. Quickly giving his teeth one last scrub, he spit into the sink again. “You worry about getting me off, and I’ll hire a new nanny.”
He looked into the mirror to gauge her reaction. Unsurprisingly she wasn’t amused. Arms folded across her chest, she said flatly, “Go put on your pajamas.”
It was a ridiculous order, and it immediately struck him as such. And given how many times she foolishly ordered him to do his clinic hours or made him run unnecessary tests, her command must have been extraordinarily silly if he could instantly recognize that.
She was telling him to get ready for bed? When a half hour hadn’t even gone by since Rachel had fallen asleep? It was absurd.
Nonetheless, he said, “Fine.” He had no intention of going to sleep. But he also didn’t wish for this conversation to be dragged out any longer. And yet, even though that was what he thought, as he started to leave the bathroom, he turned anyway to her. He said, “Don’t think this is all about sex.”
She nodded her head. “I don’t.”
“You can’t do this all on your own. You need help.”
“I know.” Her voice was calm, rational. “But I need good help or else there’s no point.”
This time he was the one to nod his head. However, he’d barely taken a step out the door before he turned to her again. “And just so we’re clear, I’m not the only one in this relationship who needs sex.”
She smirked. “I had no idea.”
It seemed like the right spot to leave her. To be sure, the conversation couldn’t end at a better place; there was nothing more they could agree on or discuss at that moment. She wanted to hire someone, and he wanted that as well. And though she wanted to take her time, which was not what he wanted, he could understand that impulse. So if they stayed and continued talking about it, they were only inviting misunderstanding and inevitable disagreement.
Changing, despite the time, was the reasonable thing to do. But he didn’t leave her side for long. The second he finished changing into a t-shirt and blue pajama pants, he returned to her.
She was spitting out mouthwash into the sink, her body slightly hunched over. He liked that, because it gave him a chance to stare at her ass. But in doing so, he realized something.
“You weren’t wearing underwear.”
Cuddy straightened up abruptly in surprise. “God, you scared me.”
“You weren’t wearing -”
“Yes, I heard you the first time,” she said dryly.
“And?”
“And what?”
“And I’m wondering if there’s any particular reason for that.”
She looked at him, the confusion obvious in her features. “A reason? Like what - like I wanted to be prepared in case you wanted a quickie in my bathroom at work?”
They both seemed to have the same thought at the exact same moment.
“Know what we should have done?” he asked.
“Have sex in my bathroom?”
“Yeah.”
“Well… we’re idiots.”
“No,” he said after a second’s contemplation. “I had a case. And you have an unfortunate prejudice against sex in the office.”
She rolled her eyes before she began the process of removing her make up. Cotton ball and special cleanser in hand, she gingerly started to dab at her eyes. “I don’t think I ever said that.”
“Maybe not in those words exactly,” he admitted slowly as he moved closer to her. He was always fascinating by this particular ritual of hers. Well, maybe it wasn’t taking the make up off exactly; he just always found himself intrigued by her, by the things she did to make herself ready for the day - the way she painted her toes, applied her lipstick. There was something about these small moments, he thought, something about each and every little thing she did that he wanted to memorize though he didn’t know why.
His hands clutching her hips lightly, he pressed himself up against her. “You definitely said no sex.”
She bent down to splash water on her face, which just pushed her ass further into his body. She was warm, the contact threatening to make him hard again. And part of him wanted to hold her there, so he could grind against her.
But the irritation in her voice cut through his growing desire and brought him back to reality.
“I believe there was some context with that comment,” she said sharply.
He tried to remember what had happened, what situation had prompted that conversation. But try as he might, he couldn’t recall details. “I don’t -”
He cut himself off though as the memory hit him. “My patient was a porn star?”
“Yes.” The reflection in the mirror looked angry.
“You’re still pissed -”
“No.”
“Because I took a case where the patient just happened to -”
“She didn’t just happen to be a porn star. You made a case because -”
“She was sick.”
“She had a cold,” Cuddy said knowingly. “Which you knew and didn’t care about, because you thought she was hot. So you wasted everyone’s time so you could watch porn and get paid for it.”
He kissed her shoulder consolingly. “And as I recall, I still came to you afterwards for the happy ending.”
“That’s not the compliment you think it is.”
He reached over and grabbed a towel. Handing it to her, he watched her dry her face off. “So,” he said, bringing them back to the original point. “You were lying when you said you wouldn’t have sex with me in -”
“I didn’t lie,” she said with a scoff. “And that’s not what I said. I said I wouldn’t have sex with you in my office after that stunt.”
He nodded his head. “Exactly.”
“I meant right after.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”
She handed him the towel back. “You could try listening to me.”
As he hung the towel back on the wrack, he fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I did listen. I didn’t understand. There’s a difference.”
“I was clear,” she insisted.
He hugged her to him, kissing the side of her neck as he did so. “Didn’t say you weren’t, so don’t turn this into a thing.”
“I’m not -”
“A little bit, you are,” he interrupted. He was quick to move past that point though. It was obvious that, if he gave her enough time to get angry, she would. And he did not want that to happen. “But I think the more important thing to discuss is the fact that we could have been having sex this entire time in your office and we haven’t. Now that I know we can, I’m gonna have to make up for lost time.”
He caught the reflection of her superior smile in the mirror. It was not a good sign.
“Let’s be clear,” she said instantly. “You go to work to work. You’re not going to have a daily orgy at noon.”
Against her skin, he muttered, “Well if you need to push it back to one every once in a while….”
“I’m serious. This is not an open invitation.”
“So… I can’t have sex with you at -”
She cut him off with an overly dramatic, frustrated sigh. Her hand reaching behind her body, she slipped her fingers into the tiny sliver of space between her ass and his crotch. Briefly she rubbed her palm against the outline of his dick. "Your inability to comprehend nuance tells me I haven't had nearly enough sex with you."
He could have been offended. But the way her hand was starting to make him hard pretty much overrode any irritation he might have felt. His voice deep and low, he said, "It's not my fault my IQ drops when -”
"Three days," she told him calmly. "That's all I ask."
"Three days I'm allowed to have sex with you at work. Ever." Perhaps he should have been grateful for the allowance at all. Given that he'd thought work was off limits altogether, it should have felt like an improvement to get three days. Especially when he could probably stretch three to five to seven to... some other larger number if he played his cards right.
However, it didn't feel like that. Maybe it could have, but the intense disappointment he immediately felt prevented any rational thoughts from getting through to him.
"Three days off between," she corrected.
And then he wasn't sad at all. "Seriously?"
"Not if we're having sex at home. Not if we're not having sex here, because I'm pissed," she told him quickly, perhaps sensing how big the opportunity she'd given him really was. "Just... if we're not getting any here, then once every three days I am willing to -"
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but given the way things are right now with Rachel, you're going to spend quite a lot of time bent over your desk."
She nodded her head. "I know." She pulled her hand away from him and placed it back on the lip of the sink. "I'm aware of how unfortunate all of this is. I don't need you to remind me of -"
"I'm just saying, you might want to reconsider that rate, cause that's a lot of office sex."
She raised an eyebrow. "You think I don't know that?"
"Then I'm surprised you're -"
"Because you're right," she interrupted, not even giving him a chance to finish the thought. "I can't do all of this by myself. I'm going to need to hire someone, and in the meantime, I'm going to need your help."
His eyes narrowed on her. "And this is your way of earning my help? Having sex with me?"
"Of course not." She sounded far more annoyed than she looked, and she appeared pretty agitated in the mirror as it was. "I don't need to bribe you with sex."
"Really? Cause that's what -"
"I’m not bribing you. The past week -"
"Ten days."
"Whatever. This period of time has been awful."
"At least you admit it."
"I've been useless at work, and I can't have you erecting statues to my labia out of frustration."
He kissed her neck once more, this time letting his lips linger a little bit. "Please keep using the words labia and erect in your sentences."
Ignoring the comment, she added, "And if you keep masturbating in the shower -"
"Like you haven't," he said knowingly.
"Dead nannies and my daughter crying don't exactly do it for me, House." In his mind, those things seemed irrelevant. He didn't enjoy listening to Rachel sob or having to pick up the slack Marina had left behind. But those matters didn't matter much at all when he was in the shower and frustrated and letting his mind wander to happier times... which regularly led his memories to stumble upon the image of Cuddy naked and taking it in the ass. And he was about to say that out loud, because she should get that point. But she never gave him the chance. "Besides, the physiology is different. And I'm not calling a plumber, because your semen -"
"So you're interested in having sex at work to protect the pipes?"
Her knuckles turned white - that was how hard she was gripping the sink. Through gritted teeth, she explained, “All I’m saying is we have enough going on right now. And we are better equipped to deal with it if we’re not constantly thinking about sex or fixing problems that arise because we’re not having sex. So if the way we avoid those issues is by having sex every once in a while in my office, fine.”
In all honesty, it sounded like a fair, reasonable proposition. As a way to get him to do what she needed, it hadn’t been an idea he liked; he certainly wasn’t above negotiating for sex, but he didn’t like the possibility of her having sex with him at work only because she needed something from him. That would have made him feel like he was coercing her into something she didn’t really want to do, which made him uncomfortable for obvious reasons. But if she was interested for selfish reasons? He couldn’t find fault in that.
“Okay,” he said with a small nod. “So going by your rules, we have to not have sex for the next three days before -”
“And not annoy me,” she interrupted. “Which you will do if you even think about withholding sex to test -”
“I can assure you I would never purposely not have sex with you.”
Really, she should have known better than to ever think that he would do something like that. There were many things he would do to prove a point or to get what he wanted. Depriving himself of sleeping with Cuddy was not one of them.
He would have liked to have claimed that he’d tried or almost succeeded that one time. But the truth was he had never attempted it. He had always known that there was no point; he would never successfully withhold from her. All she would have to do was bend over or wear a low-cut top, and he wouldn’t want to continue with his plan anymore.
Now would be no different, even if he wanted it to be.
Then again, he didn’t want it to be different.
“I’m just thinking if it’s going to be a good three more days before we can do it -”
“You don’t know that. Rachel could stay in her bed, and we -”
“We both know that’s not going to happen,” he said knowingly. “Which means….” His hands slid under the waistband of her shorts. “We should probably make the most of tonight.”
He let one of his palms slide along her hipbone and over her mound. His fingers ran along her outer lips, and he was not surprised that she was still wet with their combined fluids.
“You think I want to have sex with you again?” she asked calmly, even as he circled her clit with his index finger, even as she took a wider stance to give him better access.
“If you don’t, just tell me to stop.” Less seriously though, he added, “But for the sake of your drain, I urge you to take one for the team here.”
She chuckled softly, reaching down and tugging her shorts off. “Well in that case, okay.”
“If you must?”
“Hardly,” she said, covering the hand on her mound with one of her own. She tried to guide him further downwards, clearly wanting him to finger her.
And that was an unspoken request he could hardly refuse.
“I’ve missed this,” he told her. Slipping two fingers inside of her, he was instantly reminded of all the sex they hadn’t had this past week.
Again.
She was tight and wet and hungry, and it felt nothing short of wrong to have been deprived of her body for so long.
“Me too,” she said, reaching behind her to push down his pajama pants. She could barely get the clothing over his hips, and he had to stop touching her in order to take his pants off altogether.
His fingers slicked with her juices, he stroked himself a few times to make his dick hard. He would have liked to claim that it took him more stimulation than that. Having had sex once today, he felt that, for his ego’s sake, there should have been more effort on her part to get him in the mood.
Of course, had she even considered, say, blowing him to make him hard, it would have ended badly. And by “badly” he meant he would have come down her throat so forcefully he would have knocked out teeth.
When he pictured that possibility in his mind though, he did not imagine the awful ending. Rather he simply saw her on her knees, fucking him with that hot mouth of hers. The second he thought of that, any chance of getting her on the floor or anywhere near a bed was out the window.
He pushed her against the sink, roughly enough that she grunted. His hands on her hips, he made her lean on the countertop as best as he could. It was a small area, and having accidentally hurt her in a situation like this before, he was in control enough to know better than to be too forceful. The mirror, after all, was right in front of her face, and if he smashed her head… she would be pissed.
But if he was going to fuck her, he needed a way to line her body up with his. At least, he needed to do that if he wanted any kind of real penetration. Cuddy understood that; it was clear she did. Because, although she had more than enough of a reason to object, instead she was actually pulling herself up as best she could to give him better access.
Her knees banged against the drawers underneath the sink as she stood on her tiptoes. If that hurt, she didn’t let on. And he didn’t care really. The second she seemed secure, their bodies lined up, he thrust into her hard and fast. She groaned loudly as he buried himself to the hilt.
Immediately House withdrew almost entirely. With just the tip of his cock inside of her, he teased her opening for a moment. He could feel her muscles clenching, trying to encourage him to thrust into her once more. And it worked, he thought - vaguely, the idea never really forming in his head. His gaze trained on her ass and spread legs, it was hard to truly think of anything at that moment, other than how beautiful she was and how lucky he was to have her beneath him.
Eagerly he pushed back into her, his thighs slapping against her. He set a quick, unforgiving pace, thrusting in and out of her with no interest in taking his time. Even with the sink, he still had to crouch a little to truly fuck her, and time meant eventual pain for him. And he was not going to cap the evening with that.
But part of him understood that he was frantic for other reasons as well. They'd had sex once tonight, but it still hadn't been enough. And given the way her pussy welcomed him, wrapped around him, it was impossible to believe that there would ever be a point where he would have had his fill. That just wouldn't ever happen, not when her pert, pale ass bounced with each rough thrust into her, not when she was encouraging to keep going.
"More," she said breathily, her voice low and gravelly. A few stray sounds escaped her parted lips, which were reddened with desire, but they were unintelligible. Coos and hungry noises that only seemed to drive his own need further along, they had no actual meaning to him. But then again, House suspected she could have said any number of words he would usually recognize and he wouldn’t understand any of it.
All he knew in that moment was what he was doing, how it made him feel. His eyes fluttered shut as his hips repeated a pace and pattern long practiced. At the same time, she began to rock side to side (well as best she could anyway, given her position), allowing his dick to rub against her in different angles that somehow made them both all the more wanton.
His hands moved to her hips. The muscles in his legs were beginning to ache - not enough to stop, not enough to make him soft, thankfully. But he knew he couldn’t push himself much further or else his body would rebel, and he would be in serious pain. Wanting to avoid that, he had no choice but to dig his fingers into her hipbones and begin pulling her back in time with his thrusts.
At first she cried out in surprise. She obviously wasn’t expecting the move, and he watched through half-closed eyes as she scrambled to grab hold of the countertop. But quickly those sounds evolved from being ones of shock to ones of need. Though she kept her grip tight on the lip of the counter, she began to push the lower half of her body back of her own volition.
His dick slid into her even deeper, hitting her in just the right way. She was hot against him, that feeling infusing itself with every cell he possessed.
Electricity seemed to crackle within him, his impending orgasm making his body feel white hot. His cheeks were red; his t-shirt slick with sweat. Her cunt squeezed his cock with each rough thrust, his tongue swollen with the urge to get on his knees and lick the juices practically dripping from that sweet little pussy of hers.
One of his hands burrowed underneath her, becoming trapped between the now sticky counter and her stomach. Roughly he pulled her back, her back arching for him. Again she fumbled to avoid falling and hurting herself. But at this point, he suspected they both would have been okay with taking this to the floor if need be. Nothing - not his leg, not Rachel - nothing was going to put an end to this before he filled Cuddy with all of his come.
His arm looped around her waist, he yanked her back further into one of his harsh thrusts. She yelped loudly, her lower lip being assaulted by her teeth to stop herself from screaming. "Oh God," she cried.
She moved her hips more quickly, and he nipped at the spaghetti strap sliding off her shoulder. He was so close, crazed with the urge to come, to consume her, to feel every little bit of her.
Through gritted teeth, he ordered in a husky voice, "Fuck me back, you little bitch."
His thighs slapped against her ass, and her reaction was immediate. She came hard, her feet slipping against the cool tile. Her box squeezing him tightly, he couldn't hold back any longer either.
His orgasm was quick but intense, the rush so powerful that he nearly collapsed on top of her.
They melded together hot and sticky, and if they'd been in bed or on the floor, they probably would have fallen asleep that way - connected and half-naked. But as it was, discomfort was impossible to ignore once the after effects of orgasming dissipated.
She was bent over the sink. Her knees, no doubt, were pink and slightly raw from banging against the cabinets so much. Her hair was a mess of curls sticking out at odd angles. Her pajama top was wet, as much thanks to her body as it was due to the small amounts of water that had splashed around the sink. And behind her, he wasn't much better, with his pajama pants and her shorts carelessly by his ankles and his t-shirt completely soaked through.
His leg hurt as well, though he wasn't about to say that aloud. The less she knew about it, the better, he thought. Whenever he complained, she tended to remember later on that his thigh had been a problem during a particular activity. And then she would be worried that his leg would hurt again, and when it came to sex, he didn't want to fear for a future where she would ask if he could bear to have sex with her. Maybe it was a matter of pride, but he didn't want her to ever think he was too weak to do her.
So although it pained him, he moved with purposeful ease. He didn't say a word to her, just kissed her before putting his pants back on. And it was only when she was busy wiping his come off of her inner thighs with a tissue that he bothered to open the pill bottle. Taking it while she changed, he was sure she would never notice what he was doing. Which meant that she would be less inclined, thankfully, to question whether or not fucking her over a sink was a good idea in the future.
Of course, when put like that, it didn't sound smart at all. It sounded pretty dumb actually, especially when there'd been a bed nearby the entire time. But, he thought as he crawled into said bed, if he couldn't bang a woman that sexy in a myriad of inappropriate and potentially dangerous ways, that would just make him sad. And though it seemed... seedy to hide his pain from her, he knew it was the right thing to do.
In any case, she had enough to worry about right now anyway, he reminded himself. She was worried about Rachel and work and replacing the nanny and all of that, and he wouldn't be helping by giving her something else to consider.
Keeping this from her was the right thing to do he decided.
And he knew that to be true when Cuddy crawled into bed with a smile on her face.
“’Fuck me back, you little bitch?’” she repeated in equal parts amusement and judgment. “Just how much porn have you been watching this past week if that sounds like a good line.” She didn’t seem offended, so he didn’t feel the need to apologize.
Instead he shrugged, as she got underneath the covers. “I needed inspiration for my pumpkin - since you weren’t available.”
“Of course,” she said dryly, scooting towards him.
“I bet you’re rethinking that whole ‘I can’t just hire anyone to be my daughter’s nanny’ argument right now,” he said, as she buried her face into his chest.
“Hardly.” Almost immediately she rolled away from him though. “Change your shirt. You smell.”
He got up out of bed to do just that. On any other day, he might have objected. But at that moment, it didn’t seem like that much of a hassle. He sensed her looking at him in surprise at his obedient behavior; he didn’t usually do what she wanted him to do when he didn’t want to do it without a fight. Tiredly, he realized that that sentence was far more complicated than it needed to be, but his thoughts were scattered now. After everything with Rachel and now sex with Cuddy twice, he was ready to go to sleep. And for that reason, he didn’t point out to Cuddy that she shouldn’t get used to this kind of behavior. Truth be told, he doubted the remark would start a fight, but that didn’t matter. Conversation as a whole seemed beyond what his mind was capable of.
Yet a conversation became inevitable as he pulled on a clean t-shirt. Because she asked at that moment, “Rachel didn’t want to go trick-or-treating?”
He slipped his arms through the appropriate holes in the shirt. His brow knitting itself together, he thought he had said that. “Didn’t I tell you that?”
She nodded her head as he headed back towards the bed. “You did,” she said carefully. “I’m just wondering what happened. I know you couldn’t say something in front of her. So -”
“She didn’t want to go,” he said simply. It was the truth - a vague one, yes, but it was the truth.
Slipping into bed once more, he pulled her close to him. “Better, Mommy?”
Cuddy didn’t say yes or no. She kept her head resting on his arm though, so he supposed it was enough for her. But then again, lying this close to her with her body curled into his, he quickly realized that he almost would have preferred the distance.
“She just… didn’t want to go?” she asked, her gaze roaming over his face for some sort of understanding.
“I asked her if she wanted to go. She said no.” The words came out matter of factly; he was hoping that by being conversational things wouldn’t head into accusatory territory. But if anything, his casualness just made her more suspicious.
Her eyes narrowing on him, she asked, “Really? You -”
“I tried. I -”
“Of course you did. I’m sure you tried -”
“I did,” he fought back. Later on, she might try to deny that she’d doubted him then, but he could hear the disbelief in her voice.
“And she didn’t want to go?”
“No.”
“Just like that?”
He didn’t know how to answer the question. No, it hadn’t been quick and easy. It hadn’t been about the kind of candy she would get or the feeling that she was too mature for Halloween. This had been a choice Rachel had made the second Marina had died and the kid had felt as though it were her fault.
But he had promised not to say anything. Well, not exactly, but if Cuddy found out, the technicalities wouldn’t matter to Rachel. She’d be pissed at him. And perhaps he shouldn’t have cared about that; maybe he didn’t even really, but if she were mad at him, that would just make maintaining his relationship with Cuddy all the more difficult.
At the same time though, what could he say? He couldn’t lie. He could try, he guessed, but it wouldn’t be hard for Cuddy to see beyond that - or to automatically assume he was lying.
Before he could even formulate an answer though, she jumped to her own conclusions. “You didn’t even ask if she -”
“I asked many times, Cuddy. Many times. And she didn’t want to go.”
“And you have no idea why?”
The second’s worth of hesitation on his part was more than enough for her. Sitting up immediately, she said, “If you know something, you need to tell me.”
He went with the lie. “There’s nothing to tell. She didn’t want to go.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “You asked her if she wanted to go, and she said no. And you have no idea why. I’m supposed to believe that you, a man who analyzes my choice in a bra, didn’t ask any questions, didn’t -”
“I didn’t say that,” he interrupted. “You didn’t ask if I asked. I did. She didn’t tell me anything.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Okay,” he said with a shrug. Closing his eyes, he told her, “Then you can ask Rachel yourself tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”
“You know something.” And he did. But he really didn’t want to reveal something to her that, truth be told, should have been Rachel’s choice to tell. Cuddy, however, clearly wasn’t going to let this drop. “I have a right to know,” she said insistently.
“Then talk to Rachel.”
“If you know something -”
“’If?’ You just said I did. Now you’re changing your mind?”
She squeezed his forearm, forcing his eyes to open once more. She wasn’t hurting him by any means, but the sudden touch surprised him into looking at her.
“You have to tell me,” she said earnestly, the need clear in her gaze. “I’m her mother. You don’t have the right to keep secrets with my daughter.” He didn’t say anything. “It’s not your place to -”
“Yeah, it’s also not my place to pick her up from school, feed her dinner, offer to take her trick-or-treating - among other things, but you definitely didn’t have a problem asking me to -”
“This is different.” The tone in her voice left no room for discussion. “And you know that. If there’s something going on, I have a right to know. You need to tell me.”
The awful part of it all was that he agreed with her. He didn’t want to withhold any of what Rachel had told him from her. If anything, he wanted to dump all of that information right on to Cuddy so that she would be the one in charge of making things better. He didn’t want to make things with Rachel any worse than they already were, but not a single part of him was comfortable being the person who knew the truth, who had to make Rachel feel better. That was simply a responsibility he couldn’t handle, nor did he think he should touch.
“House,” Cuddy implored, pulling him from his thoughts.
Instantly he sighed, knowing what he had to do. He had to tell her. Because while Rachel would inevitably be pissed, it was reasonable to assume that Cuddy would find out eventually. Rachel would blab the truth at some point, and then he’d be the guy who hadn’t told, who’d kept this terrible secret.
“Fine,” he said reluctantly and yet with resignation. “I asked her why not.”
“And?”
He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “She didn’t like the costume.”
“She picked it -”
“No,” he corrected. “Marina did. And it wasn’t what Rachel wanted, and they fought about it, and then Marina died and -”
“You said you weren’t going to tell!” a squeaky voice shouted from the hallway.
Both Cuddy and House looked - and saw Rachel, standing in the doorway, with a teddy bear tucked under her arm.
They’d left the door open, he realized. Out of habit, he supposed they’d done it, both knowing that there was a good chance Rachel might join them in bed tonight. And in doing so, they’d had no warning that she was approaching, no indication that she was hearing anything he was saying.
“I hate you!” Rachel snarled before taking off. The sound of tears and running feet were all he heard, her retreating form all he saw.
The one thing he’d wanted to avoid all day had now happened. He’d made a nice dinner and watched movies with her; he’d done everything as well as he could, and it was all gone now. Part of him wanted to make a joke about it, wanted to say that he saw the pussy points disappearing before his eyes. But suddenly it didn’t seem funny.
His girlfriend had demanded from early on that he get along with her kid. And the moment some sort of independent connection had been made, Cuddy had come along and ruined it by insinuating her presence into that friendship or whatever the hell it was. Which he couldn’t deny she had the right to do, but he resented her nevertheless.
“Good job,” he said sarcastically as she got up to go after Rachel.
Truthfully he thought Cuddy would be apologetic. But one heated glare from her told him that she was anything but sorry for what she’d done. “This isn’t my fault,” she hissed. “Maybe if you had told me the second we were alone instead of making me beg to hear what was bothering my daughter, we could have avoided this.”
“Right. Because that’s -”
“Don’t you dare,” she snapped in a deadly voice.
If he let her storm off then, it was not because she was right. Sure, she was in fact right to be upset. He should have told her; he should have texted her what had happened or called her while Rachel was watching movies or done something differently. But if he let her go at all, it was because House didn’t feel all that bad about being wrong.
No matter how he’d done it, the end result was always going to be him getting screwed over. He might have been able to avoid some of the damage, but at the end of the day, Rachel would always be pissed that he told.
And Cuddy would always be mad that her daughter had revealed the truth to him.
She didn’t realize that, of course. He understood that the next week would be her being angry with him, because she’d had to force the truth from him. But it was true nonetheless: she resented that Rachel had confided in him.
Lucky for Cuddy though, Rachel would never trust him with anything again. Of that he was sure. And then he didn’t care at all that both Rachel and Cuddy had gone running from the room, leaving him alone.
Closing his eyes once more, he thought he was alone in this effort to make it all work anyway. Why shouldn’t his bed reflect that truth? In this equation, he was the one removable part. He was the one who could and would go if something happened. They would have each other, and he would have no one. No amount of sex or favors would change that. If there were a problem, he would be the one to get the boot. Because as much as he mattered, he wasn’t ever going to come first for either of them.
Why shouldn’t he have been reminded of that fact?
He frowned, knowing there were no answers to that question.
In the end, he was not surprised when Cuddy didn’t come back to bed that night. If anything, that seemed like the predictable, right choice.
And that, he lamented, was precisely the problem, the thing he feared the most.
The End