Gift of Screws, Chapter 19.3
Title: Gift of Screws, Chapter Nineteen, Part Three
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Characters: House, Cuddy, Rachel Cuddy
Author's Note: This piece takes place in the future when Rachel is five; House and Cuddy are in an established relationship.
Warning: This fic also contains sex. If that bothers you, don't read.
Summary: For a price, House agrees to celebrate Purim with Cuddy and Rachel. But although he's getting all the sex he
wants, he's still not sure he'll be able to last the weekend. Established relationship, contains sexual situations.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9 (Part 1), Chapter 9 (Part 2), Chapter 9 (Part 3), Chapter 9 (Part 4), Chapter 10 (Part 1), Chapter 10 (Part 2), Chapter 10 (Part 3), Chapter 11, Chapter 12 (Part 1), Chapter 12 (Part 2), Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18 (Part 1), Chapter 18 (Part 2), Chapter 19 (Part 1), Chapter 19 (Part 2)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
"Take off your clothes."
She didn't. In fact she didn't do anything other than scowl.
"I promise you, I'm not trying to have sex with you," he said quickly.
"So I'm getting naked, because...."
"Because I can do a better job if you are," he explained. She could hear the frustration he was trying to hide from her.
Part of her felt bad for him. Rationally she understood that he was just trying to do something nice for her. He was, in theory anyway, trying to be kind, and she was making that as difficult as could be. But knowing that didn't stop her from saying, "I don't want to be cold."
"You won't get cold. I -"
"I will."
There was a moment of heated silence, a pregnant pause where he was clearly trying to maintain control of himself.
"Electric blanket's on the bed," he told her, gesturing to the thick, butter-colored blanket that wasn't usually there. "It's been warming up for a while now." He reached for the cashmere blanket that had been folded at the foot of the bed. "You can cover up with this. And I reheated your tea for you."
It was clear that he had thought of everything. Every possible objection that she could offer he had dealt with, ensuring that he would get what he wanted.
"Fine," she grumbled, pulling her sweated up over her head. "I'll get naked."
"Wonderful."
It didn't take her long to discard all of her clothing. Getting undressed, she remembered, was a surprisingly simple task when she wasn't making out with him with one hand cupping her breast and the other hand shoved down her underwear.
Kicking her clothes aside, she looked at him. He was holding the mug of tea out for her expectantly. His gaze focused on her eyes, he wasn't looking at her body.
And that made her suspicious.
She took the cup, her cold hands greedily cradling the heated mug. But she didn't take a sip. There was just something so odd about him having the tea she'd long since forgotten about right there... waiting for her.
"You dosed this," she accused.
He smirked. "Why would I do something like that?"
"Because you're you."
He took a step closer to her. His frame looming over her, he told her, "Look in the cup. You see anything? Smell anything?"
She didn't, she realized, as he pushed some of her hair out of her face. "That doesn't mean anything."
"Okay." He took the mug out of her hands and took a large sip. He made a point of swallowing as loudly as he could. "That mean something to you?"
"You're bigger than I am. You could have still put something in it, and it wouldn't affect you."
"Get on the bed," he told her in a low voice that made her body flush.
She didn't mean to react to his tone, but she couldn't help herself.
If he noticed though, he didn't say anything. All he said was, "Don't drink it if you don't want to."
As she laid down on her stomach, carefully balancing the tea in her hands, her mind swam with possibility. Saying that he didn't care if she drank it made her think that he hadn't put anything in it. But maybe saying that was just his way of ensuring that she would think he hadn't put anything in it when he had.
"You're giving me a headache," she confessed.
"Just relax."
His hands were on her calves, his fingers carefully pressing into her muscle.
"You're over thinking this."
She was.
She couldn't deny that. She was obsessing over what he had done to the tea, what he might have done to the tea. But really what did that matter? He wouldn't hurt her. So if he'd put something in the beverage, it wouldn't result in her being harmed in any way. Maybe she'd be drugged enough to agree with him; maybe she'd be high enough to take a nap or calm down in the way he wanted. But he wouldn't do something serious to harm her.
"I know," she agreed. Throwing caution to the wind, she tentatively sipped the hot tea in her hands. The paranoid part of her was curious as to what House's reaction to that was, but she refused to look back at him. It didn't matter, she told herself.
"You have nothing to worry about with that guy," House told her, taking advantage of her capitulation.
"No." She shook her head, dark curls slipping over her shoulder tantalizingly. He couldn't help but hungrily watch the strands slide along the plane of her back. "You're wrong."
"If you wanted to date that guy, you would have," he pointed out. "I'm not someone you just fall into a relationship with, Cuddy. You wanted me."
Warmth coated her every word. "I know."
"Then there's nothing to worry about," he dismissed.
Cuddy rolled over, her legs knocking his hands out of the way.
"See, the whole point of a massage is -"
"He's had people investigate you," she said gravely. "He's looking into you. He knew that you still had your apartment."
He wasn't concerned. He hadn't really considered it before, but he could believe that John would have someone investigating him. Wouldn't House himself have done the same thing in the reverse? "Of course he did."
"And that doesn't bother you." She took another sip of the tea.
"No."
She practically snorted into the mug.
"It doesn't," he insisted. "If you know about it, he told you. And the only reason he would tell you what he was doing is to gauge your reaction." He gestured to her. "Obviously you weren't pleased by that little development. He's not going to keep -"
"You don't know that."
"Actually I do." He reached for one of her thighs and began to rub her pale skin. "If there's one thing I'd consider myself good at, it's seducing you. If I were trying to get in your panties, I wouldn't keep doing something that obviously doesn't make you happy."
She raised an eyebrow. "Since when have you tried to avoid irritating me?"
He intentionally didn't answer the question. "He wanted to see if you were open to hearing something bad about me. He wanted to know if he could work that angle. It didn't work."
"And that's it?"
"Of course not. But he's not going to try and make me look bad, because he realizes now that that's not going to work."
Once more, she rolled over. "I guess."
"Don't spill that," he warned, noticing how the mug in her hand kept sloshing about. "Burnt nipples don't exactly spell relaxation. Even if you do like it kinky."
She didn't say anything in return. He was right, she thought, at least about the mug. She would burn herself if she weren’t more careful. But truth be told, she was tired of dealing with the tea, so she quickly drank the rest.
Handing him the empty mug, she said, “So he’s not going to be looking into you. That doesn’t mean anything.”
He set the cup on one of the nightstands. Picking up the cashmere blanket, he held it out in front of her face to take. And though she did, she didn’t cover her body with it. She clutched it to her side but left herself open for his wandering gaze.
He did not believe that that was a coincidence.
“It means you’re going to get a half-assed apology,” he said knowingly. “It means he’ll back off for a little bit and then try again, sure.”
“And you’re not concerned about that.”
His hands rubbed along her bony ankles. “Like you said, I’m arrogant. It doesn’t please me to know what he’s going to do. But I’m not worried that he’s going to steal you away from me.”
Her voice seemed so small when she responded. “I don’t want him to kiss me again.”
Pulling one of her feet into his hands, he said, “I don’t want that either. Lucky for both of us, he played that card too soon.”
She didn’t feel that lucky, she thought. She might have had a boyfriend who was doing everything in his power to make her feel better, but another man had kissed her. And she didn’t feel as though she had anything even remotely approaching luck on her side.
“Yeah? How’s that?” she asked.
“He tried to make a deposit in your bank before he made sure he even had an account there.”
She raised her head off the bed. “You’re comparing sex with me to having a bank -”
“Which means,” he said, ignoring her distaste apparently. “You know what he wants; you can’t deny it. Which means he’ll have a very hard time getting you alone again,” House explained, massaging the sole of her foot.
But that hardly made her feel better. “You’re relying on a lack of opportunity. You would give up if I just refused to be alone with you?”
“He’s not as determined as I am to get in your pants.”
At that, she felt him drawing one of her feet closer to his chest. The movement seemed odd to her; he already had her in his grasp. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a hold of her.
Turning her head, she asked, "What are you doing?" But as soon as she looked at him, she knew the answer. His hand was still rubbing one of her soles, but his gaze was trained on her ass. Or rather, thanks to his movement, her thighs had parted ever so slightly, and he was practically staring at her vulva. "Seriously?"
He blinked and slowly let his gaze wander towards her face. "Am I not allowed to look?"
"Of course you can. It's just a little odd considering what we're talking about."
"We were talking about something?" he joked.
He had to let go of her foot when she tried to kick him with it. "Do my shoulders," she instructed before laying her head back down on the mattress.
"I'm being punished for looking at -"
"No," she interrupted. "I'd just rather have you work on my shoulders."
And that was the truth. As much as her feet could ache after a day's worth of wearing heels, right now she didn't care about that. She wanted him close to her.
"Fine." He moved up the bed and placed his hands between her shoulder blades. As he started to massage her, he explained gently, "After that mistake, he's not going to try to kiss you again."
"Right," she said doubtfully.
"Let me tell you something: guys like him? They get off on being the nice guy. That's how they flirt - by seeming nice. He screwed up today," he said roughly, as harshly as his massage was unintentionally becoming. "He's not going to try to kiss you again. He'll flirt and do his little song and dance, but he'll want you to make the next move."
"That's not going to happen," Cuddy told him with determination. No matter what John thought, she had never wanted, nor invited, his attraction. And she would never do anything to encourage him to continue feeling that way. "Not so hard," she said, as House practically pinched her back.
He stopped massaging her for a moment, perhaps aware of the pain he'd briefly given her. But what he said was a sarcastic, "That's not what you said this morning."
It took him a few seconds, but eventually he renewed his efforts. This time though, he was careful to be less rough with her. Still, underneath his fingertips he could feel the knots in her muscles. He tried to rub them out, to get her to relax, but he could tell that it wasn't working. He would ease the tension in one area of her shoulders or back and move on to the other. But then, when he would meander back to the place he'd started, she was as tense as ever.
"You're still worried about that," he said with dismay. He was unhappy that, despite all of his efforts, she wasn't any more relaxed than when she'd come into the room.
"I don't understand how you can't be," she murmured into the cashmere blanket.
"I would be worried if I thought he had any chance with you. I know he doesn't." He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. "If I thought I'd given you a reason to run into his arms, I'd be concerned." He rubbed his chin against her pale skin. "I know I'm screwed up, but I don't think I've done that. Even if I haven't been the best with Rachel."
Wanting to put some distance between them, he raised his head up. Quickly he began to massage her once more, hoping that she would take the hint: he didn't want to talk about that.
By his previously employed logic, admittedly, if he'd brought it up at all, he wanted to talk about it. But he hadn't meant to open the door for a discussion about Rachel. He'd needed, in that split second, to recognize his own faults in the relationship. He did not want Cuddy to take that as a sign that they should talk about it.
Unfortunately for him, there was absolutely no chance of that happening. He knew it, even before she had a chance to open her mouth. They were going to have the conversation whether he liked it or not.
So he hastily fished for a compliment. "You should be happy about that, right? You said I needed to take care of it, and I did. Rachel and I aren't fighting anymore."
She didn't respond right away. And as each second passed silently, no approval coming from her, his heart seemed to clench painfully in his chest.
Pulling his hands away from her, he asked, "What did I do wrong?" He sat back on the bed, not stunned that she was doing this. He had predicted she would be this way. But it still upset him, which did surprise him.
Cuddy rolled over. "Nothing," she said quickly. "You didn't do anything wrong." But she said it with such speed that he didn't believe her for a second.
"Really."
"Yes. I'm -"
"You're lying," he snapped bitterly. He rested his head against the headboard and closed his eyes. "So tell me. What didn't you like?"
Thoughtlessly he began to rub his thigh, so mindlessly that he didn't even realize he was doing it until she called attention to it.
"Why don't you take off your clothes and let me rub you a little?" she suggested in a sweet voice that he couldn't appreciate at the moment.
"Why don't you answer the question?"
She crawled up on the bed to be closer to him. And God help him, but he couldn't help but watch the way her breasts swayed with the movement. Even when he was irritated, he couldn't ignore how beautiful she was.
"I will," she told him. "But like it was with me... I don't think you'll listen to me right now, like this." She motioned to his fully clothed body. "So take off your clothes... let me rub your leg and make you feel better, and then we can discuss this."
It didn’t sound like a good idea, not to him. But he was powerless to refuse a thigh massage, especially when it came from her. Over the years, she had learned from experience what eased his pain, what he liked. He had a masseuse’s number in his cell phone for that instance where he needed relief and Cuddy was busy. If he could always have his way though, she would be the one touching him. And so, although he didn’t want to turn the focus on to him, he was unable to say no.
As he unzipped his jeans, he told her, “This wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t want this to be about me.”
“I know… but we need to talk about this.” He was content to stay in his boxer briefs and shirt, but she wasn’t having that. “Uh uh. Naked.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re just going to massage my leg.”
“You’re not the only one who likes to look,” she pointed out as she grabbed the hem of his shirt.
He knew better than to disagree with her. Doing so would only result in a fight, and really, he didn’t want that. So it was simply easier for him to pull off the remaining articles of clothing he was wearing.
“Better?” he asked, as he settled back on the bed.
She exhaled roughly, her eyes taking in his appearance. “Much.”
He kept quiet as she started to run her palms along his leg. He wanted to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible, yes. But for the first several minutes, he could only focus on what she was doing. As much as he trusted her to know what he needed, his leg muscles always involuntarily contracted at first contact. As though his body didn’t quite trust the foreign touch, it always took him a few minutes to calm himself down. And in those instances, it was best to just close his eyes and ease himself into the gentleness of her massage.
For her part, she had the good sense to stay quiet then. He had no doubt that her mind was teeming with things she wanted to say. But she seemed okay with waiting as long as it took.
When he'd finally adjusted to what she was doing, he opened his eyes once more. And immediately he was confronted with how beautiful she was. Sitting in front of him naked, her hands on him, her gaze unwavering in desire as she drank in his figure, she was nothing short of amazing. Perfect nipples tightened in the cool air, bare breasts so close he could reach out and palm one if he wanted to... it was so enticing that it almost made him forget why they were sitting like this.
Almost.
Clearing his throat, he asked once more, "What did I do wrong?"
She looked up at him. Her eyes were sad, something he hadn't expected to see. "House, you didn't do anything wrong."
He didn't believe her. "If that were true, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"I...." She sighed. "You were nice to her, taking her outside."
"And that's a problem, because...." He really didn't understand where she was coming from.
"You always do this," she said vaguely.
"This being -"
"You spoil her, House."
He scoffed.
And she knew she had to clarify. Her fingers tentatively traced the line of his scar as she said slowly, “When you feel you have to get closer to her, your solution is to give her what she wants. The monkey, taking her outside -”
“I’m sorry.” The sarcasm was heavy in his voice. “You’re right. I should have beat her instead. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
“Did you tell her the real reason you didn’t read to her?”
That immediately caught his attention. Cocking his head to the side, he asked, “How do you know what the so-called reason is I -”
“Rachel showed me the book.” She looked down for a second. When her eyes met his again, she said, “I saw the inscription. Kutner’s name.”
“Good for you,” he replied, plopping a hand on a pillow. “You’re literate.”
She ignored the comment. “You were nice to her, sure. But she still has no idea what happened, why you reacted the way you did.”
“She doesn’t need to know that.”
“She needs to know you,” she said pointedly. “You can give her every stuffed animal in the world, and that’s not going to mean anything if you don’t have some sort of emotional -”
“You think I don’t realize that?”
The edge in his tone was lethal. Each word came out so sharply that she was surprised by the viciousness.
“Believe me. I know what you want from me. You take every opportunity to remind me of it.”
She let her palms rest against his thigh. Licking her lips, she explained to him in a calm voice, “We were talking about what’s making me… crazed.” She sighed. “I don’t want to deal with John, but I can handle him.”
“I know you can.”
“What I’m not sure I know how to handle, what I’m most worried about, is this situation with Rachel,” she confessed.
“I know.” He stressed the word to demonstrate just how clearly he understood. “But you have to understand that it’s not easy for me.”
Without warning she leaned forward and kissed him. Hands on his shoulders as she pulled away, she stayed close to him when she echoed his own thoughts, “I know.”
“You have to give me time,” he said quietly, her nearness somehow keeping the anger at bay.
“I’m not rushing you.” The doubt must have shown through on his face, because she added, “I’m trying to be as patient as I can be.”
“Which is why you pointed out my mistake the second you could.”
Cuddy pulled away from him. “Honey, you were the one who brought that up. I didn’t.”
Quickly going over the conversation in his head, he supposed he had. But that didn’t mean he was wrong. “A technicality.”
“No.”
“A little bit, yeah.”
“You asked for my opinion.”
“Not really.”
“So I gave it,” she said, obviously ignoring him.
“Actually, I was hoping you’d give me the compliment I was fishing for and reward me in the form of sex.”
“You have me naked on a bed,” she pointed out. “If it was about the sex, we would be having it. You wanted the compliment.”
“So you thought you’d respond by crushing my balls. Metaphorically speaking of course.”
She smirked. “Well, I considered actually crushing them, but I am a little attached to that area.”
He wasn’t amused or any less annoyed by the comment. “I know what you’re trying to do. And, as much as I like hearing you compliment my twig and berries, you’re not going to distract me from what you said.”
Cuddy knew with all her heart that he meant what he said. Nothing was going to make him forget what she’d told him. It wasn’t going to automatically get better until she made it that way.
“I wasn’t criticizing you,” she told him. Knowing full well that he wouldn’t believe her, she had to concede afterwards, “It came out that way. I know.”
“Ya think?”
“I’m frustrated.”
“And you’re the only one -”
She shushed him by pressing her hand to his mouth. “You need to listen to me. You’ve had your chance to speak. Now it’s your turn to shut up.”
He did, although it was clear on his face that that was the last thing he wanted to do.
But when he was finally quiet, she tried once more. “Do you remember what you said to me when you first wanted to move in?”
“Am I allowed to speak now, because -”
“It’s a rhetorical question.”
“Oh.”
“You said to me - you promised me that this wouldn’t be thrown back in my face.”
Her eyes fluttered shut as she remembered every last word he had uttered that night. The suggestion had been ridiculous at first, fear blinding her to any desire she might have had for cohabitation. It had seemed too soon in their relationship, too foolish to mix their volatile personalities under one roof with no escape.
But he had won her over.
Lying in bed then as he was now, he had managed to convince her. He had made few promises, readily admitting and acknowledging all of the reasons this would end in disaster. He had never lied about what would happen; it had been his earnestness simply that had swayed her.
Opening her eyes once more, she looked at him pointedly. “You told me that you would find a way to make it work with Rachel.”
“You think I’m not trying to do that?”
“I think that with the way you are handling this, I will be waiting forever for you to do what you said you would.”
She expected him to fight back. But all he did was throw his hands in the air and say, “Tell me what you want.”
“That’s not -”
“No,” he said shaking his head. “I’m obviously clueless.” There was a bite to the words, but what surprised Cuddy the most was the lack of sarcasm. There was bitterness, yes, but he was honest. He really felt that he had no idea what he was doing.
Placing a hand on his chest, she gently slid her palms along his pecks up to his shoulders. Her fingertips lightly kneaded the flesh along his clavicles. If she had been tense, she thought at that moment that that was nothing compared to how he felt underneath her now.
And that, more than anything he’d said, made her realize just how… unhinged she really was.
Granted, it wasn’t like she didn’t believe him before. She had. But now that she was neck deep in a fight with him, now that she had made him feel awful, she could truly see what her behavior was like. She could see how wrong it was in a way she hadn’t before.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head and looked away. “I’m sorry.” It didn’t seem like she could say it enough. “I’m - that’s not what I’m trying to say. I didn’t mean that. You’re amazing.”
He wasn’t sure where she was headed with this, but he didn’t believe her. She was absolutely insane, but even she couldn’t go from complaining to lauding this quickly. At least he didn’t think so. Then again, she was so nuts today that really anything was possible, he guessed.
And if that were true, if she could change her mind at the drop of a hat, he knew he needed to play things carefully. As much as he might want to believe in the shift in behavior, he knew better than to do that. He needed to know that she actually meant it before he could do that. So he stayed silent.
"I'm not saying that. You didn't do anything wrong," she said hastily, almost frantically. "That's not what I mean... and it's coming out all wrong, because -"
"I know why, so why don't you get to the point?" Maybe the words came out peeved. All right, they definitely did. But he already understood why sanity had abandoned her; he was, after all, the one to tell her about it. So he didn't need to hear her regurgitate the information he had given her.
"I'm not saying you should be awful to her. I'm saying... you think you have to do all these nice things to make her like you." Cuddy's hands nervously went back to his thigh. Kneading the flesh, she added before he could say it, "And before you tell me I’m telling you that you should be cruel to her, that’s not what I want either.”
“Yeah, I gathered that. Again, get to the -”
“You’re enough,” she blurted out. “You don’t have to give her anything. You all on your own is all she needs.”
It simultaneously felt as though he’d been hit in the face with realization and stunned from confusion. Even as he understood what she was saying, he didn’t. Even as he thought to himself that she had given him a greater gift than she could ever understand, he didn’t think that was true at all; whether she meant anything she said or not, part of him couldn’t believe this was an act of kindness.
Then again, he had no idea what to believe.
Her arbitrary behavior and his ambivalence over the whole matter made it hard to know what her point was or how he should react. The fact that he knew he wasn't good enough for Rachel just made things even more muddled. Cuddy was looking at him like he should be thanking her or... reacting in some way. But he thought that was naive on her part.
"I know you don't believe that," she said, probably feeling prompted by his silence. "But it's true."
"Is it?" he asked, searching for some sort of truth in her gaze.
"House, plenty of people have no business being around children, but they are. They have them."
"So now I'm being lumped in with child molesters and -"
"No," she snapped back. "That's not -" She cut herself off with a loud, frustrated exhale. "I would never say that."
He didn't say anything in response. Maybe he should have, but he couldn't; words weren't going to come, he knew, until he was sure she wasn't making that comparison.
"You think you're so screwed up," she said knowingly. "And... sure, you are."
"Thanks."
"We both are," she insisted. "Most people are. Isn't that what you think?" He didn't answer the question. His gaze trained on hers, he wanted her to get to the point as quickly as possible; talking would only slow things down. "If only sane, completely well adjusted people had children, we would have died out as a species."
And then he couldn't help but interject. "If this is supposed to make me feel better -"
"Rachel doesn't care," Cuddy said in a firm voice. "Kids don't. She's not going to care that you have… a million different flaws.”
“Again, if I’m supposed to -”
“She just wants to know you, House. That’s it,” she said with a shrug. “She will forgive you for your shortcomings. But if all you ever do for is… give her presents and spoil her, what’s that going to mean to her?”
“So I should have told her about Kutner, because nothing says, ‘Let’s have a nice Sunday afternoon’ like explaining suicide to a five year old.”
He was clearly trying to make her back down by being so blunt.
But Cuddy wasn’t going to back down.
“You can twist this in your head all you want so you don’t have to think about what I’m saying, but I’m not going to fight with you,” she said sharply. “I’m not playing. I’m out. If you think that me saying what a great man you are… that, despite your beliefs, you would actually be good for her if you let yourself open up to her - if you think any of that is an insult -“
“Actually I’m just wondering if your sentence is ever going to end.”
It was like the air being let out of a balloon. Whatever willpower she had dissipated immediately. As much as she wanted him to see her point, she was done trying to do that; if he was going to be an ass the entire time, she would let him figure it out on his own.
But when she didn’t finish the rest of her thought, he seemed unhappy about that.
“Well?” he prompted. “I’m assuming there was more to that.”
“No,” she said with a shrug.
“No?”
“Nope.”
“Really? Cause it sounded like -”
“You don’t want to hear anything I have to say, so… that’s it. I’ve said more than enough. You can figure out the rest.”
He considered what she was saying. “So your entire point has been… what, that Rachel and I could be friends?” The words felt odd in his mouth, his tongue struggling to utter each syllable. The idea of it all was just so strange, so foreign to him, especially since, looking at her, he could see that she believed it.
To hide his surprise, he fell back on sarcasm. “That she has a thing for middle-aged drug addicts, like mother like daughter, and -”
“You have to put it like that,” she interrupted, shaking her head. As she sat back, he could see the irritation flit across her face. But he didn’t feel bad about that. “You have to say it in the most offensive way possible.”
“Of course. If I put it nicely, well, that would be confusing for you.”
He could practically hear her teeth gnashing together. Her arms folding across her chest, she angrily said, “I try to make you feel better -”
“Actually, I think you were trying to make yourself feel better.”
“And you take that as an opportunity to say that I have no taste,” she said, ignoring him.
“You’re telling me I should be myself around your kid,” he pointed out. “I think that’s the perfect time to call into question your taste level.”
Was it pathetic to admit that? Sure. Even as the words came out of his mouth, he could tell that the sentiment behind them was hardly one he was proud of. And frankly, as the milliseconds passed, he became increasingly regretful of ever saying something like that.
Without a doubt, Cuddy was responding to the emotion positively; it was the kind of thing, he knew, tailor made for her, to make her sympathetic towards him. But it was also an overly sentimental expression of low self-esteem that could only induce cringing in him. And regardless of how she was reacting, he was embarrassed to have even uttered the words.
The feeling only multiplied when she said in a soft, sympathetic voice, “Oh, House.”
“No.” He held up a hand, wanting to stop this train of thought before it ever left the station. “Don’t.”
“Don’t?” She seemed surprised.
“Yeah,” he said calmly. “You’ve gone from saying I’m bad for your kid -”
“That’s not what I said.”
“To, now, how great I would be. You’ve said you’d stay out of it and leave it all up to me but here you are meddling -”
“I am not -”
“A little bit.” He held up his thumb and index finger and formed them into a small C so that there wasn’t much space between them. “A tiny bit. And having witnessed your insanity all day, I’m leery of letting you say anything to me right now, given that there’s a chance you’ll change poles halfway through the conversation.”
Unknowingly proving the point, she went from sympathetic to disgruntled. “I’m not crazy.”
“Of course not,” he said sarcastically.
That just made her scowl. “I’m not.”
“Oh okay.”
“I never said you were bad for Rachel,” she pointed out. “Your way of being uninvolved is, and that doesn’t contradict me saying that your friendship would be good for her and for you. In fact, those two things almost seem, I don’t know, related.”
She was being playful, but there was a dangerous edge to her humor that House instinctively enjoyed. In his estimation, she was never hotter than when she gave as good as she got, and right now, she was potently attractive… given that she was also naked.
“House?” she asked after a second, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up at her but said nothing. “Are you listening to me or just staring at my breasts?”
He tilted his head a little. “That’s a rhetorical question, right?”
“You’re impossible,” she groaned. “Have you even heard a single word I’ve said?”
“That’s a rhetorical question as well, I think.”
“Oh come on. I’m trying to - you have nothing to say?”
He decided that it was worth giving her a dose of the truth. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.” He paused but then forced himself to ask, though hesitantly, “You really mean it… I’m not completely horrible for Rachel?”
“Of course I mean it,” she said in a voice that allowed her earnestness to shine through. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t.”
Put forth that simply, it was impossible to think she was lying; she clearly meant what she said. Though it made no sense, she actually believed that it would be good for him to…
He didn’t even know how to finish that sentence.
What she was encouraging him to do was so unfathomable that he had no idea how to word it, much less do it. She, of course, thought that he was being sarcastic as a way to avoid making the conversation serious. And sure, that was part of it. But more than anything, he wasn’t sure he possessed the means to word it nicely.
As it was, it was hard enough to know he needed to form some sort of… relationship with the kid. It was difficult enough to process that and figure out what he needed to do. That Cuddy seemed to believe he could be good at it… well, that was mind-boggling. And he had no idea how to respond to her assertion. He really had no clue what to say.
But she seemed to understand his silence. Her hands kneading his thigh once more, she said, “Just think about it, all right?”
He nodded his head, because he didn’t know what to say. However, she clearly wanted him to say something; she kept looking at him like she was waiting for him to speak. So he felt compelled to say, “Okay.”
“Thank you.”
He didn’t want to let that sentiment hang between them for too long. Knowing it would just make things awkward, he wanted to push through the moment as quickly as he could.
“Are you done?”
She was unamused. “Yes, I’m sorry this has taken so much of your time,” she said snidely.
“No need to be like that. I just think… you’re naked. I’m naked. We’re in -”
“So you want to segue from our conversation to sex.” She frowned.
He didn’t really see the problem there. “At this point, I’d segue to a rectal probe to end this discussion.”
“Keep talking like that and I’ll make sure that happens,” she said darkly.
However, she undermined her own threat by pulling away from him. By then, she’d had enough of the conversation that seemed to be going nowhere as well. Though she wouldn’t admit it, they agreed on that much; it was time to move on to other things. So she turned around and started to crawl off the bed.
Nevertheless, she didn’t appreciate him acting as though she were wasting his time. After all, she was trying to be nice. It might have made him uncomfortable to hear the truth, but God, he didn’t have to act like such a jerk. Since he no doubt would behave that way though, she decided she wouldn’t stick around for it.
But House had other ideas. As she was crawling towards the foot of the bed, he grabbed her ankle. He tugged lightly, just enough to hold her in place.
“Oh come on,” he said in exasperation. “Don’t go away.”
Neck deep in her own frustration, she buried her face into the warm electric blanket beneath her. But doing that left her ass in the air and elicited from House, “Okay, if you don’t want have to sex, you have to stop doing that immediately.”
She snorted loudly and rolled over on to her side so that she was looking at him once more. “Better?” The obvious answer was no since his gaze had returned to her chest. “Maybe I should put some clothes on.”
“Or...” he said softly, the fingers around her ankle lightly stroking her. “I can finish that massage.”
“Okay.”
There was no resistance on her part. As much as their motto as a couple might have been “Fight over everything,” she was more than willing to accept his offer. Sometimes there really was no reason to fight, she thought as she rolled over onto her stomach. Especially when the hands on her back were warm and gentle, it would have been idiotic to tell him no to spite him.
Hell, the longer he rubbed her shoulders and back, the more she realized just how much she’d let him get away with if he used this as his apology. Truth be told, she was okay with that, which was why she spoke up.
“Next time you screw up, please do this,” she mumbled into the hand her head was resting on.
His hands abruptly stopped moving between her shoulder blades. “How did I screw up?”
Although she had the urge to smother herself with a pillow, she fought it in order to say, “I wasn’t saying you -”
“You just said -”
“In the future,” she said with irritation lacing every word. “Not now.”
“But you said -”
“That this feels nice,” she snapped. Mentally she corrected that it had felt nice, because surely there was nothing about this particular moment that she liked. “That’s it.”
He didn’t respond right away, which could only mean that he was realizing just how badly he’d gotten it wrong. Because if he was still under the delusion that he’d been wronged, he would still be talking. He’d be accusing her of all sorts of things. Since he wasn’t, she could only believe that he suddenly saw how much he was overreacting.
“Oh,” he muttered eventually.
“Yeah. Oh.”
“Well, it’s not like you -”
“You can’t blame me for this,” she said smugly. “This is all your fault.”
She could practically feel the annoyed look he was giving her. “You’re enjoying this way too -”
“You’ve been acting like I’m the crazy one, but -”
“You are.”
“Then I guess I’m not the only one, am I?”
He started rubbing her lower back, but he was almost cautious about it. And when he spoke, she understood why. “Nah. Your level of crazy is only attainable if you’ve had the pleasure of being raised by someone just as nuts. And your mother -”
“Yes, please start making jokes about my mother,” she said dryly. “Cause your childhood was perfectly normal.”
“Never slept with my dad’s best friend.” His fingers paused before sliding down to her ass. “Of course, my dad’s best friend was a -”
“I’m pretty sure if you’d done that, we wouldn’t be together.”
“Why? Because I’d be gay or because I would killed myself once the shame set in?”
She glanced back at him, which made him stop petting her butt. “Are you saying I should be ashamed of -”
“Is that what I said?”
She laid her head back down. “No.”
“No, I did not,” he agreed in the most condescending voice she thought he could muster. “Although I’m glad you think I did, because now, once again, you’re the mayor of Crazytown, and I am the sane one.”
Effortlessly she laughed. “I’m the crazy one.”
“Yeah.”
“Between you and me, I’m the one who’s -”
“Sorry. No point in arguing. Judges have made their ruling.”
“There are no judges. There’s just you.”
“And we both know my keen sense of -”
“Are you actually going to attempt to have sex with me?” she asked, changing the subject with ease. “Or do you plan on calling me insane and massaging my ass for the rest of the afternoon?”
His answer came in the form of a dry question. “This isn’t turning you on?”
“You wish,” she said tiredly.
He slid his hands back up to her lower back. As his palms eased the tension from her muscles, he considered his options. He could try to make a more aggressive move; in theory, she’d just encouraged him to do so. But then, if she’d made the comment to get him to back off, pushing further would end disastrously. And as bizarre and unlikely as that possibility seemed, Cuddy’s behavior today made it seem possible.
Needless to say, he wasn’t interested in making a wrong move. As fun as it could be to irritate her, now was definitely one of those times when any satisfaction he might have gotten from driving her nuts would be surpassed by the dissatisfaction he received when she got pissed. So he was, for sure, going to proceed carefully - very carefully.
But he’d no sooner thought that than when Cuddy spoke up.
“You’re over thinking this.”
“Am I?” he asked cautiously.
“Yeah.”
“You mean -”
“That was an invitation for sex? Yes.”
Continue on to the rest of the chapter
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Characters: House, Cuddy, Rachel Cuddy
Author's Note: This piece takes place in the future when Rachel is five; House and Cuddy are in an established relationship.
Warning: This fic also contains sex. If that bothers you, don't read.
Summary: For a price, House agrees to celebrate Purim with Cuddy and Rachel. But although he's getting all the sex he
wants, he's still not sure he'll be able to last the weekend. Established relationship, contains sexual situations.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9 (Part 1), Chapter 9 (Part 2), Chapter 9 (Part 3), Chapter 9 (Part 4), Chapter 10 (Part 1), Chapter 10 (Part 2), Chapter 10 (Part 3), Chapter 11, Chapter 12 (Part 1), Chapter 12 (Part 2), Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18 (Part 1), Chapter 18 (Part 2), Chapter 19 (Part 1), Chapter 19 (Part 2)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
"Take off your clothes."
She didn't. In fact she didn't do anything other than scowl.
"I promise you, I'm not trying to have sex with you," he said quickly.
"So I'm getting naked, because...."
"Because I can do a better job if you are," he explained. She could hear the frustration he was trying to hide from her.
Part of her felt bad for him. Rationally she understood that he was just trying to do something nice for her. He was, in theory anyway, trying to be kind, and she was making that as difficult as could be. But knowing that didn't stop her from saying, "I don't want to be cold."
"You won't get cold. I -"
"I will."
There was a moment of heated silence, a pregnant pause where he was clearly trying to maintain control of himself.
"Electric blanket's on the bed," he told her, gesturing to the thick, butter-colored blanket that wasn't usually there. "It's been warming up for a while now." He reached for the cashmere blanket that had been folded at the foot of the bed. "You can cover up with this. And I reheated your tea for you."
It was clear that he had thought of everything. Every possible objection that she could offer he had dealt with, ensuring that he would get what he wanted.
"Fine," she grumbled, pulling her sweated up over her head. "I'll get naked."
"Wonderful."
It didn't take her long to discard all of her clothing. Getting undressed, she remembered, was a surprisingly simple task when she wasn't making out with him with one hand cupping her breast and the other hand shoved down her underwear.
Kicking her clothes aside, she looked at him. He was holding the mug of tea out for her expectantly. His gaze focused on her eyes, he wasn't looking at her body.
And that made her suspicious.
She took the cup, her cold hands greedily cradling the heated mug. But she didn't take a sip. There was just something so odd about him having the tea she'd long since forgotten about right there... waiting for her.
"You dosed this," she accused.
He smirked. "Why would I do something like that?"
"Because you're you."
He took a step closer to her. His frame looming over her, he told her, "Look in the cup. You see anything? Smell anything?"
She didn't, she realized, as he pushed some of her hair out of her face. "That doesn't mean anything."
"Okay." He took the mug out of her hands and took a large sip. He made a point of swallowing as loudly as he could. "That mean something to you?"
"You're bigger than I am. You could have still put something in it, and it wouldn't affect you."
"Get on the bed," he told her in a low voice that made her body flush.
She didn't mean to react to his tone, but she couldn't help herself.
If he noticed though, he didn't say anything. All he said was, "Don't drink it if you don't want to."
As she laid down on her stomach, carefully balancing the tea in her hands, her mind swam with possibility. Saying that he didn't care if she drank it made her think that he hadn't put anything in it. But maybe saying that was just his way of ensuring that she would think he hadn't put anything in it when he had.
"You're giving me a headache," she confessed.
"Just relax."
His hands were on her calves, his fingers carefully pressing into her muscle.
"You're over thinking this."
She was.
She couldn't deny that. She was obsessing over what he had done to the tea, what he might have done to the tea. But really what did that matter? He wouldn't hurt her. So if he'd put something in the beverage, it wouldn't result in her being harmed in any way. Maybe she'd be drugged enough to agree with him; maybe she'd be high enough to take a nap or calm down in the way he wanted. But he wouldn't do something serious to harm her.
"I know," she agreed. Throwing caution to the wind, she tentatively sipped the hot tea in her hands. The paranoid part of her was curious as to what House's reaction to that was, but she refused to look back at him. It didn't matter, she told herself.
"You have nothing to worry about with that guy," House told her, taking advantage of her capitulation.
"No." She shook her head, dark curls slipping over her shoulder tantalizingly. He couldn't help but hungrily watch the strands slide along the plane of her back. "You're wrong."
"If you wanted to date that guy, you would have," he pointed out. "I'm not someone you just fall into a relationship with, Cuddy. You wanted me."
Warmth coated her every word. "I know."
"Then there's nothing to worry about," he dismissed.
Cuddy rolled over, her legs knocking his hands out of the way.
"See, the whole point of a massage is -"
"He's had people investigate you," she said gravely. "He's looking into you. He knew that you still had your apartment."
He wasn't concerned. He hadn't really considered it before, but he could believe that John would have someone investigating him. Wouldn't House himself have done the same thing in the reverse? "Of course he did."
"And that doesn't bother you." She took another sip of the tea.
"No."
She practically snorted into the mug.
"It doesn't," he insisted. "If you know about it, he told you. And the only reason he would tell you what he was doing is to gauge your reaction." He gestured to her. "Obviously you weren't pleased by that little development. He's not going to keep -"
"You don't know that."
"Actually I do." He reached for one of her thighs and began to rub her pale skin. "If there's one thing I'd consider myself good at, it's seducing you. If I were trying to get in your panties, I wouldn't keep doing something that obviously doesn't make you happy."
She raised an eyebrow. "Since when have you tried to avoid irritating me?"
He intentionally didn't answer the question. "He wanted to see if you were open to hearing something bad about me. He wanted to know if he could work that angle. It didn't work."
"And that's it?"
"Of course not. But he's not going to try and make me look bad, because he realizes now that that's not going to work."
Once more, she rolled over. "I guess."
"Don't spill that," he warned, noticing how the mug in her hand kept sloshing about. "Burnt nipples don't exactly spell relaxation. Even if you do like it kinky."
She didn't say anything in return. He was right, she thought, at least about the mug. She would burn herself if she weren’t more careful. But truth be told, she was tired of dealing with the tea, so she quickly drank the rest.
Handing him the empty mug, she said, “So he’s not going to be looking into you. That doesn’t mean anything.”
He set the cup on one of the nightstands. Picking up the cashmere blanket, he held it out in front of her face to take. And though she did, she didn’t cover her body with it. She clutched it to her side but left herself open for his wandering gaze.
He did not believe that that was a coincidence.
“It means you’re going to get a half-assed apology,” he said knowingly. “It means he’ll back off for a little bit and then try again, sure.”
“And you’re not concerned about that.”
His hands rubbed along her bony ankles. “Like you said, I’m arrogant. It doesn’t please me to know what he’s going to do. But I’m not worried that he’s going to steal you away from me.”
Her voice seemed so small when she responded. “I don’t want him to kiss me again.”
Pulling one of her feet into his hands, he said, “I don’t want that either. Lucky for both of us, he played that card too soon.”
She didn’t feel that lucky, she thought. She might have had a boyfriend who was doing everything in his power to make her feel better, but another man had kissed her. And she didn’t feel as though she had anything even remotely approaching luck on her side.
“Yeah? How’s that?” she asked.
“He tried to make a deposit in your bank before he made sure he even had an account there.”
She raised her head off the bed. “You’re comparing sex with me to having a bank -”
“Which means,” he said, ignoring her distaste apparently. “You know what he wants; you can’t deny it. Which means he’ll have a very hard time getting you alone again,” House explained, massaging the sole of her foot.
But that hardly made her feel better. “You’re relying on a lack of opportunity. You would give up if I just refused to be alone with you?”
“He’s not as determined as I am to get in your pants.”
At that, she felt him drawing one of her feet closer to his chest. The movement seemed odd to her; he already had her in his grasp. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a hold of her.
Turning her head, she asked, "What are you doing?" But as soon as she looked at him, she knew the answer. His hand was still rubbing one of her soles, but his gaze was trained on her ass. Or rather, thanks to his movement, her thighs had parted ever so slightly, and he was practically staring at her vulva. "Seriously?"
He blinked and slowly let his gaze wander towards her face. "Am I not allowed to look?"
"Of course you can. It's just a little odd considering what we're talking about."
"We were talking about something?" he joked.
He had to let go of her foot when she tried to kick him with it. "Do my shoulders," she instructed before laying her head back down on the mattress.
"I'm being punished for looking at -"
"No," she interrupted. "I'd just rather have you work on my shoulders."
And that was the truth. As much as her feet could ache after a day's worth of wearing heels, right now she didn't care about that. She wanted him close to her.
"Fine." He moved up the bed and placed his hands between her shoulder blades. As he started to massage her, he explained gently, "After that mistake, he's not going to try to kiss you again."
"Right," she said doubtfully.
"Let me tell you something: guys like him? They get off on being the nice guy. That's how they flirt - by seeming nice. He screwed up today," he said roughly, as harshly as his massage was unintentionally becoming. "He's not going to try to kiss you again. He'll flirt and do his little song and dance, but he'll want you to make the next move."
"That's not going to happen," Cuddy told him with determination. No matter what John thought, she had never wanted, nor invited, his attraction. And she would never do anything to encourage him to continue feeling that way. "Not so hard," she said, as House practically pinched her back.
He stopped massaging her for a moment, perhaps aware of the pain he'd briefly given her. But what he said was a sarcastic, "That's not what you said this morning."
It took him a few seconds, but eventually he renewed his efforts. This time though, he was careful to be less rough with her. Still, underneath his fingertips he could feel the knots in her muscles. He tried to rub them out, to get her to relax, but he could tell that it wasn't working. He would ease the tension in one area of her shoulders or back and move on to the other. But then, when he would meander back to the place he'd started, she was as tense as ever.
"You're still worried about that," he said with dismay. He was unhappy that, despite all of his efforts, she wasn't any more relaxed than when she'd come into the room.
"I don't understand how you can't be," she murmured into the cashmere blanket.
"I would be worried if I thought he had any chance with you. I know he doesn't." He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. "If I thought I'd given you a reason to run into his arms, I'd be concerned." He rubbed his chin against her pale skin. "I know I'm screwed up, but I don't think I've done that. Even if I haven't been the best with Rachel."
Wanting to put some distance between them, he raised his head up. Quickly he began to massage her once more, hoping that she would take the hint: he didn't want to talk about that.
By his previously employed logic, admittedly, if he'd brought it up at all, he wanted to talk about it. But he hadn't meant to open the door for a discussion about Rachel. He'd needed, in that split second, to recognize his own faults in the relationship. He did not want Cuddy to take that as a sign that they should talk about it.
Unfortunately for him, there was absolutely no chance of that happening. He knew it, even before she had a chance to open her mouth. They were going to have the conversation whether he liked it or not.
So he hastily fished for a compliment. "You should be happy about that, right? You said I needed to take care of it, and I did. Rachel and I aren't fighting anymore."
She didn't respond right away. And as each second passed silently, no approval coming from her, his heart seemed to clench painfully in his chest.
Pulling his hands away from her, he asked, "What did I do wrong?" He sat back on the bed, not stunned that she was doing this. He had predicted she would be this way. But it still upset him, which did surprise him.
Cuddy rolled over. "Nothing," she said quickly. "You didn't do anything wrong." But she said it with such speed that he didn't believe her for a second.
"Really."
"Yes. I'm -"
"You're lying," he snapped bitterly. He rested his head against the headboard and closed his eyes. "So tell me. What didn't you like?"
Thoughtlessly he began to rub his thigh, so mindlessly that he didn't even realize he was doing it until she called attention to it.
"Why don't you take off your clothes and let me rub you a little?" she suggested in a sweet voice that he couldn't appreciate at the moment.
"Why don't you answer the question?"
She crawled up on the bed to be closer to him. And God help him, but he couldn't help but watch the way her breasts swayed with the movement. Even when he was irritated, he couldn't ignore how beautiful she was.
"I will," she told him. "But like it was with me... I don't think you'll listen to me right now, like this." She motioned to his fully clothed body. "So take off your clothes... let me rub your leg and make you feel better, and then we can discuss this."
It didn’t sound like a good idea, not to him. But he was powerless to refuse a thigh massage, especially when it came from her. Over the years, she had learned from experience what eased his pain, what he liked. He had a masseuse’s number in his cell phone for that instance where he needed relief and Cuddy was busy. If he could always have his way though, she would be the one touching him. And so, although he didn’t want to turn the focus on to him, he was unable to say no.
As he unzipped his jeans, he told her, “This wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t want this to be about me.”
“I know… but we need to talk about this.” He was content to stay in his boxer briefs and shirt, but she wasn’t having that. “Uh uh. Naked.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re just going to massage my leg.”
“You’re not the only one who likes to look,” she pointed out as she grabbed the hem of his shirt.
He knew better than to disagree with her. Doing so would only result in a fight, and really, he didn’t want that. So it was simply easier for him to pull off the remaining articles of clothing he was wearing.
“Better?” he asked, as he settled back on the bed.
She exhaled roughly, her eyes taking in his appearance. “Much.”
He kept quiet as she started to run her palms along his leg. He wanted to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible, yes. But for the first several minutes, he could only focus on what she was doing. As much as he trusted her to know what he needed, his leg muscles always involuntarily contracted at first contact. As though his body didn’t quite trust the foreign touch, it always took him a few minutes to calm himself down. And in those instances, it was best to just close his eyes and ease himself into the gentleness of her massage.
For her part, she had the good sense to stay quiet then. He had no doubt that her mind was teeming with things she wanted to say. But she seemed okay with waiting as long as it took.
When he'd finally adjusted to what she was doing, he opened his eyes once more. And immediately he was confronted with how beautiful she was. Sitting in front of him naked, her hands on him, her gaze unwavering in desire as she drank in his figure, she was nothing short of amazing. Perfect nipples tightened in the cool air, bare breasts so close he could reach out and palm one if he wanted to... it was so enticing that it almost made him forget why they were sitting like this.
Almost.
Clearing his throat, he asked once more, "What did I do wrong?"
She looked up at him. Her eyes were sad, something he hadn't expected to see. "House, you didn't do anything wrong."
He didn't believe her. "If that were true, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"I...." She sighed. "You were nice to her, taking her outside."
"And that's a problem, because...." He really didn't understand where she was coming from.
"You always do this," she said vaguely.
"This being -"
"You spoil her, House."
He scoffed.
And she knew she had to clarify. Her fingers tentatively traced the line of his scar as she said slowly, “When you feel you have to get closer to her, your solution is to give her what she wants. The monkey, taking her outside -”
“I’m sorry.” The sarcasm was heavy in his voice. “You’re right. I should have beat her instead. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
“Did you tell her the real reason you didn’t read to her?”
That immediately caught his attention. Cocking his head to the side, he asked, “How do you know what the so-called reason is I -”
“Rachel showed me the book.” She looked down for a second. When her eyes met his again, she said, “I saw the inscription. Kutner’s name.”
“Good for you,” he replied, plopping a hand on a pillow. “You’re literate.”
She ignored the comment. “You were nice to her, sure. But she still has no idea what happened, why you reacted the way you did.”
“She doesn’t need to know that.”
“She needs to know you,” she said pointedly. “You can give her every stuffed animal in the world, and that’s not going to mean anything if you don’t have some sort of emotional -”
“You think I don’t realize that?”
The edge in his tone was lethal. Each word came out so sharply that she was surprised by the viciousness.
“Believe me. I know what you want from me. You take every opportunity to remind me of it.”
She let her palms rest against his thigh. Licking her lips, she explained to him in a calm voice, “We were talking about what’s making me… crazed.” She sighed. “I don’t want to deal with John, but I can handle him.”
“I know you can.”
“What I’m not sure I know how to handle, what I’m most worried about, is this situation with Rachel,” she confessed.
“I know.” He stressed the word to demonstrate just how clearly he understood. “But you have to understand that it’s not easy for me.”
Without warning she leaned forward and kissed him. Hands on his shoulders as she pulled away, she stayed close to him when she echoed his own thoughts, “I know.”
“You have to give me time,” he said quietly, her nearness somehow keeping the anger at bay.
“I’m not rushing you.” The doubt must have shown through on his face, because she added, “I’m trying to be as patient as I can be.”
“Which is why you pointed out my mistake the second you could.”
Cuddy pulled away from him. “Honey, you were the one who brought that up. I didn’t.”
Quickly going over the conversation in his head, he supposed he had. But that didn’t mean he was wrong. “A technicality.”
“No.”
“A little bit, yeah.”
“You asked for my opinion.”
“Not really.”
“So I gave it,” she said, obviously ignoring him.
“Actually, I was hoping you’d give me the compliment I was fishing for and reward me in the form of sex.”
“You have me naked on a bed,” she pointed out. “If it was about the sex, we would be having it. You wanted the compliment.”
“So you thought you’d respond by crushing my balls. Metaphorically speaking of course.”
She smirked. “Well, I considered actually crushing them, but I am a little attached to that area.”
He wasn’t amused or any less annoyed by the comment. “I know what you’re trying to do. And, as much as I like hearing you compliment my twig and berries, you’re not going to distract me from what you said.”
Cuddy knew with all her heart that he meant what he said. Nothing was going to make him forget what she’d told him. It wasn’t going to automatically get better until she made it that way.
“I wasn’t criticizing you,” she told him. Knowing full well that he wouldn’t believe her, she had to concede afterwards, “It came out that way. I know.”
“Ya think?”
“I’m frustrated.”
“And you’re the only one -”
She shushed him by pressing her hand to his mouth. “You need to listen to me. You’ve had your chance to speak. Now it’s your turn to shut up.”
He did, although it was clear on his face that that was the last thing he wanted to do.
But when he was finally quiet, she tried once more. “Do you remember what you said to me when you first wanted to move in?”
“Am I allowed to speak now, because -”
“It’s a rhetorical question.”
“Oh.”
“You said to me - you promised me that this wouldn’t be thrown back in my face.”
Her eyes fluttered shut as she remembered every last word he had uttered that night. The suggestion had been ridiculous at first, fear blinding her to any desire she might have had for cohabitation. It had seemed too soon in their relationship, too foolish to mix their volatile personalities under one roof with no escape.
But he had won her over.
Lying in bed then as he was now, he had managed to convince her. He had made few promises, readily admitting and acknowledging all of the reasons this would end in disaster. He had never lied about what would happen; it had been his earnestness simply that had swayed her.
Opening her eyes once more, she looked at him pointedly. “You told me that you would find a way to make it work with Rachel.”
“You think I’m not trying to do that?”
“I think that with the way you are handling this, I will be waiting forever for you to do what you said you would.”
She expected him to fight back. But all he did was throw his hands in the air and say, “Tell me what you want.”
“That’s not -”
“No,” he said shaking his head. “I’m obviously clueless.” There was a bite to the words, but what surprised Cuddy the most was the lack of sarcasm. There was bitterness, yes, but he was honest. He really felt that he had no idea what he was doing.
Placing a hand on his chest, she gently slid her palms along his pecks up to his shoulders. Her fingertips lightly kneaded the flesh along his clavicles. If she had been tense, she thought at that moment that that was nothing compared to how he felt underneath her now.
And that, more than anything he’d said, made her realize just how… unhinged she really was.
Granted, it wasn’t like she didn’t believe him before. She had. But now that she was neck deep in a fight with him, now that she had made him feel awful, she could truly see what her behavior was like. She could see how wrong it was in a way she hadn’t before.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head and looked away. “I’m sorry.” It didn’t seem like she could say it enough. “I’m - that’s not what I’m trying to say. I didn’t mean that. You’re amazing.”
He wasn’t sure where she was headed with this, but he didn’t believe her. She was absolutely insane, but even she couldn’t go from complaining to lauding this quickly. At least he didn’t think so. Then again, she was so nuts today that really anything was possible, he guessed.
And if that were true, if she could change her mind at the drop of a hat, he knew he needed to play things carefully. As much as he might want to believe in the shift in behavior, he knew better than to do that. He needed to know that she actually meant it before he could do that. So he stayed silent.
"I'm not saying that. You didn't do anything wrong," she said hastily, almost frantically. "That's not what I mean... and it's coming out all wrong, because -"
"I know why, so why don't you get to the point?" Maybe the words came out peeved. All right, they definitely did. But he already understood why sanity had abandoned her; he was, after all, the one to tell her about it. So he didn't need to hear her regurgitate the information he had given her.
"I'm not saying you should be awful to her. I'm saying... you think you have to do all these nice things to make her like you." Cuddy's hands nervously went back to his thigh. Kneading the flesh, she added before he could say it, "And before you tell me I’m telling you that you should be cruel to her, that’s not what I want either.”
“Yeah, I gathered that. Again, get to the -”
“You’re enough,” she blurted out. “You don’t have to give her anything. You all on your own is all she needs.”
It simultaneously felt as though he’d been hit in the face with realization and stunned from confusion. Even as he understood what she was saying, he didn’t. Even as he thought to himself that she had given him a greater gift than she could ever understand, he didn’t think that was true at all; whether she meant anything she said or not, part of him couldn’t believe this was an act of kindness.
Then again, he had no idea what to believe.
Her arbitrary behavior and his ambivalence over the whole matter made it hard to know what her point was or how he should react. The fact that he knew he wasn't good enough for Rachel just made things even more muddled. Cuddy was looking at him like he should be thanking her or... reacting in some way. But he thought that was naive on her part.
"I know you don't believe that," she said, probably feeling prompted by his silence. "But it's true."
"Is it?" he asked, searching for some sort of truth in her gaze.
"House, plenty of people have no business being around children, but they are. They have them."
"So now I'm being lumped in with child molesters and -"
"No," she snapped back. "That's not -" She cut herself off with a loud, frustrated exhale. "I would never say that."
He didn't say anything in response. Maybe he should have, but he couldn't; words weren't going to come, he knew, until he was sure she wasn't making that comparison.
"You think you're so screwed up," she said knowingly. "And... sure, you are."
"Thanks."
"We both are," she insisted. "Most people are. Isn't that what you think?" He didn't answer the question. His gaze trained on hers, he wanted her to get to the point as quickly as possible; talking would only slow things down. "If only sane, completely well adjusted people had children, we would have died out as a species."
And then he couldn't help but interject. "If this is supposed to make me feel better -"
"Rachel doesn't care," Cuddy said in a firm voice. "Kids don't. She's not going to care that you have… a million different flaws.”
“Again, if I’m supposed to -”
“She just wants to know you, House. That’s it,” she said with a shrug. “She will forgive you for your shortcomings. But if all you ever do for is… give her presents and spoil her, what’s that going to mean to her?”
“So I should have told her about Kutner, because nothing says, ‘Let’s have a nice Sunday afternoon’ like explaining suicide to a five year old.”
He was clearly trying to make her back down by being so blunt.
But Cuddy wasn’t going to back down.
“You can twist this in your head all you want so you don’t have to think about what I’m saying, but I’m not going to fight with you,” she said sharply. “I’m not playing. I’m out. If you think that me saying what a great man you are… that, despite your beliefs, you would actually be good for her if you let yourself open up to her - if you think any of that is an insult -“
“Actually I’m just wondering if your sentence is ever going to end.”
It was like the air being let out of a balloon. Whatever willpower she had dissipated immediately. As much as she wanted him to see her point, she was done trying to do that; if he was going to be an ass the entire time, she would let him figure it out on his own.
But when she didn’t finish the rest of her thought, he seemed unhappy about that.
“Well?” he prompted. “I’m assuming there was more to that.”
“No,” she said with a shrug.
“No?”
“Nope.”
“Really? Cause it sounded like -”
“You don’t want to hear anything I have to say, so… that’s it. I’ve said more than enough. You can figure out the rest.”
He considered what she was saying. “So your entire point has been… what, that Rachel and I could be friends?” The words felt odd in his mouth, his tongue struggling to utter each syllable. The idea of it all was just so strange, so foreign to him, especially since, looking at her, he could see that she believed it.
To hide his surprise, he fell back on sarcasm. “That she has a thing for middle-aged drug addicts, like mother like daughter, and -”
“You have to put it like that,” she interrupted, shaking her head. As she sat back, he could see the irritation flit across her face. But he didn’t feel bad about that. “You have to say it in the most offensive way possible.”
“Of course. If I put it nicely, well, that would be confusing for you.”
He could practically hear her teeth gnashing together. Her arms folding across her chest, she angrily said, “I try to make you feel better -”
“Actually, I think you were trying to make yourself feel better.”
“And you take that as an opportunity to say that I have no taste,” she said, ignoring him.
“You’re telling me I should be myself around your kid,” he pointed out. “I think that’s the perfect time to call into question your taste level.”
Was it pathetic to admit that? Sure. Even as the words came out of his mouth, he could tell that the sentiment behind them was hardly one he was proud of. And frankly, as the milliseconds passed, he became increasingly regretful of ever saying something like that.
Without a doubt, Cuddy was responding to the emotion positively; it was the kind of thing, he knew, tailor made for her, to make her sympathetic towards him. But it was also an overly sentimental expression of low self-esteem that could only induce cringing in him. And regardless of how she was reacting, he was embarrassed to have even uttered the words.
The feeling only multiplied when she said in a soft, sympathetic voice, “Oh, House.”
“No.” He held up a hand, wanting to stop this train of thought before it ever left the station. “Don’t.”
“Don’t?” She seemed surprised.
“Yeah,” he said calmly. “You’ve gone from saying I’m bad for your kid -”
“That’s not what I said.”
“To, now, how great I would be. You’ve said you’d stay out of it and leave it all up to me but here you are meddling -”
“I am not -”
“A little bit.” He held up his thumb and index finger and formed them into a small C so that there wasn’t much space between them. “A tiny bit. And having witnessed your insanity all day, I’m leery of letting you say anything to me right now, given that there’s a chance you’ll change poles halfway through the conversation.”
Unknowingly proving the point, she went from sympathetic to disgruntled. “I’m not crazy.”
“Of course not,” he said sarcastically.
That just made her scowl. “I’m not.”
“Oh okay.”
“I never said you were bad for Rachel,” she pointed out. “Your way of being uninvolved is, and that doesn’t contradict me saying that your friendship would be good for her and for you. In fact, those two things almost seem, I don’t know, related.”
She was being playful, but there was a dangerous edge to her humor that House instinctively enjoyed. In his estimation, she was never hotter than when she gave as good as she got, and right now, she was potently attractive… given that she was also naked.
“House?” she asked after a second, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up at her but said nothing. “Are you listening to me or just staring at my breasts?”
He tilted his head a little. “That’s a rhetorical question, right?”
“You’re impossible,” she groaned. “Have you even heard a single word I’ve said?”
“That’s a rhetorical question as well, I think.”
“Oh come on. I’m trying to - you have nothing to say?”
He decided that it was worth giving her a dose of the truth. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.” He paused but then forced himself to ask, though hesitantly, “You really mean it… I’m not completely horrible for Rachel?”
“Of course I mean it,” she said in a voice that allowed her earnestness to shine through. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t.”
Put forth that simply, it was impossible to think she was lying; she clearly meant what she said. Though it made no sense, she actually believed that it would be good for him to…
He didn’t even know how to finish that sentence.
What she was encouraging him to do was so unfathomable that he had no idea how to word it, much less do it. She, of course, thought that he was being sarcastic as a way to avoid making the conversation serious. And sure, that was part of it. But more than anything, he wasn’t sure he possessed the means to word it nicely.
As it was, it was hard enough to know he needed to form some sort of… relationship with the kid. It was difficult enough to process that and figure out what he needed to do. That Cuddy seemed to believe he could be good at it… well, that was mind-boggling. And he had no idea how to respond to her assertion. He really had no clue what to say.
But she seemed to understand his silence. Her hands kneading his thigh once more, she said, “Just think about it, all right?”
He nodded his head, because he didn’t know what to say. However, she clearly wanted him to say something; she kept looking at him like she was waiting for him to speak. So he felt compelled to say, “Okay.”
“Thank you.”
He didn’t want to let that sentiment hang between them for too long. Knowing it would just make things awkward, he wanted to push through the moment as quickly as he could.
“Are you done?”
She was unamused. “Yes, I’m sorry this has taken so much of your time,” she said snidely.
“No need to be like that. I just think… you’re naked. I’m naked. We’re in -”
“So you want to segue from our conversation to sex.” She frowned.
He didn’t really see the problem there. “At this point, I’d segue to a rectal probe to end this discussion.”
“Keep talking like that and I’ll make sure that happens,” she said darkly.
However, she undermined her own threat by pulling away from him. By then, she’d had enough of the conversation that seemed to be going nowhere as well. Though she wouldn’t admit it, they agreed on that much; it was time to move on to other things. So she turned around and started to crawl off the bed.
Nevertheless, she didn’t appreciate him acting as though she were wasting his time. After all, she was trying to be nice. It might have made him uncomfortable to hear the truth, but God, he didn’t have to act like such a jerk. Since he no doubt would behave that way though, she decided she wouldn’t stick around for it.
But House had other ideas. As she was crawling towards the foot of the bed, he grabbed her ankle. He tugged lightly, just enough to hold her in place.
“Oh come on,” he said in exasperation. “Don’t go away.”
Neck deep in her own frustration, she buried her face into the warm electric blanket beneath her. But doing that left her ass in the air and elicited from House, “Okay, if you don’t want have to sex, you have to stop doing that immediately.”
She snorted loudly and rolled over on to her side so that she was looking at him once more. “Better?” The obvious answer was no since his gaze had returned to her chest. “Maybe I should put some clothes on.”
“Or...” he said softly, the fingers around her ankle lightly stroking her. “I can finish that massage.”
“Okay.”
There was no resistance on her part. As much as their motto as a couple might have been “Fight over everything,” she was more than willing to accept his offer. Sometimes there really was no reason to fight, she thought as she rolled over onto her stomach. Especially when the hands on her back were warm and gentle, it would have been idiotic to tell him no to spite him.
Hell, the longer he rubbed her shoulders and back, the more she realized just how much she’d let him get away with if he used this as his apology. Truth be told, she was okay with that, which was why she spoke up.
“Next time you screw up, please do this,” she mumbled into the hand her head was resting on.
His hands abruptly stopped moving between her shoulder blades. “How did I screw up?”
Although she had the urge to smother herself with a pillow, she fought it in order to say, “I wasn’t saying you -”
“You just said -”
“In the future,” she said with irritation lacing every word. “Not now.”
“But you said -”
“That this feels nice,” she snapped. Mentally she corrected that it had felt nice, because surely there was nothing about this particular moment that she liked. “That’s it.”
He didn’t respond right away, which could only mean that he was realizing just how badly he’d gotten it wrong. Because if he was still under the delusion that he’d been wronged, he would still be talking. He’d be accusing her of all sorts of things. Since he wasn’t, she could only believe that he suddenly saw how much he was overreacting.
“Oh,” he muttered eventually.
“Yeah. Oh.”
“Well, it’s not like you -”
“You can’t blame me for this,” she said smugly. “This is all your fault.”
She could practically feel the annoyed look he was giving her. “You’re enjoying this way too -”
“You’ve been acting like I’m the crazy one, but -”
“You are.”
“Then I guess I’m not the only one, am I?”
He started rubbing her lower back, but he was almost cautious about it. And when he spoke, she understood why. “Nah. Your level of crazy is only attainable if you’ve had the pleasure of being raised by someone just as nuts. And your mother -”
“Yes, please start making jokes about my mother,” she said dryly. “Cause your childhood was perfectly normal.”
“Never slept with my dad’s best friend.” His fingers paused before sliding down to her ass. “Of course, my dad’s best friend was a -”
“I’m pretty sure if you’d done that, we wouldn’t be together.”
“Why? Because I’d be gay or because I would killed myself once the shame set in?”
She glanced back at him, which made him stop petting her butt. “Are you saying I should be ashamed of -”
“Is that what I said?”
She laid her head back down. “No.”
“No, I did not,” he agreed in the most condescending voice she thought he could muster. “Although I’m glad you think I did, because now, once again, you’re the mayor of Crazytown, and I am the sane one.”
Effortlessly she laughed. “I’m the crazy one.”
“Yeah.”
“Between you and me, I’m the one who’s -”
“Sorry. No point in arguing. Judges have made their ruling.”
“There are no judges. There’s just you.”
“And we both know my keen sense of -”
“Are you actually going to attempt to have sex with me?” she asked, changing the subject with ease. “Or do you plan on calling me insane and massaging my ass for the rest of the afternoon?”
His answer came in the form of a dry question. “This isn’t turning you on?”
“You wish,” she said tiredly.
He slid his hands back up to her lower back. As his palms eased the tension from her muscles, he considered his options. He could try to make a more aggressive move; in theory, she’d just encouraged him to do so. But then, if she’d made the comment to get him to back off, pushing further would end disastrously. And as bizarre and unlikely as that possibility seemed, Cuddy’s behavior today made it seem possible.
Needless to say, he wasn’t interested in making a wrong move. As fun as it could be to irritate her, now was definitely one of those times when any satisfaction he might have gotten from driving her nuts would be surpassed by the dissatisfaction he received when she got pissed. So he was, for sure, going to proceed carefully - very carefully.
But he’d no sooner thought that than when Cuddy spoke up.
“You’re over thinking this.”
“Am I?” he asked cautiously.
“Yeah.”
“You mean -”
“That was an invitation for sex? Yes.”
Continue on to the rest of the chapter