Gift of Screws, Chapter 25.4
Title: Gift of Screws, Chapter Twenty Five, Part Four
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), Chapter 19 (Part 3), Chapter 19 (Part 4), Chapter 20 (Part 1), Chapter 20 (Part 2), Chapter 21 (Part 1), Chapter 21 (Part 2), Chapter 22 (Part 1), Chapter 22 (Part 2), Chapter 23 (Part 1), Chapter 23 (Part 2), Chapter 24 (Part 1), Chapter 24 (Part 2), Chapter 25 (Part 1), Chapter 25 (Part 2), Chapter 25 (Part 3)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
He shrugged, clearly unconcerned with the choice she was making. "R.I.P., genetically screwed potential spawn of mine."
"Yeah, I'm sure you're really upset," she said dryly, grabbing a slice of pizza laden with vegetables. If she'd been hungry earlier, she certainly wasn't now. But the last time she'd taken Plan B, it had made her dizzy, the influx of hormones nauseating. Admittedly that had happened a few years ago, around the time she'd first started sleeping with House after Lucas. They'd been using condoms until she'd been sure House's penchant for prostitutes hadn't caught up with him in addition to the pill; one night she’d been particularly insistent, and they’d broken the condom, and out of fear, she’d taken the morning after pill. That night, while hunched over the toilet, she’d regretted that choice. Naturally, it was possible that in the years since then her body's tolerance had changed, but she wasn't willing to risk it.
Not when there was already so much wrong with this situation anyway.
Forcing herself to take a bite, she recognized that the food was fine. But it didn't taste good. She wondered, as House reached for his second slice, if he felt the same way. Somehow she doubted it.
So she stayed quiet and ate. They both did. At one point, he reached over and stole her water. He took a few sips before handing it back to her, the act as domestic as it got for them. But she wasn't fooled into thinking everything was okay. Outwardly they were calm, but beneath the surface, the friction between them was palpable. Bitterness and anger churned, a sinister undercurrent lurking around them. For a tiny moment in time, she put up with it. She told herself she would deal with it as long as it took for her to give her stomach a fighting chance with the pill.
When she was halfway finished with her second piece, she felt she had stayed silent long enough.
That didn’t make it easier to speak up though.
Wanting to say something was far different than knowing what to say, and the tension between them so intense, Cuddy really didn’t know what would ease that feeling. She just knew that she had to talk.
Her stomach clenched with nerves, she licked her lips. Toying with the pizza in her hands, she abruptly said, “I’m sorry.”
His head bobbed slightly. No sound came out, but it was clear that he was attempting to scoff, snort, or make a noise that cast doubt on her proclamation. As if it wasn’t hard enough for her, he felt the need to make it more difficult by treating her as though she didn’t mean it.
The thing was - she did mean it. More than anything she wished she hadn’t had her lawyer draw up those papers. She still needed answers, but she regretted being so stupid as to think she could get away with that. She regretted acting on that idea, ensuring that the conversation from here on out would be that much harder to get through.
But there was no way House believed that. Everything about his demeanor cast doubt on her honesty, much to her dismay.
"Don't," she said, her voice pleading. "Don't be like -”
"No." The rule about interrupting clearly broken and forgotten, there was no point in bringing it up. She doubted he would have appreciated it. "No," he repeated firmly. "After what you did, you don't get to tell me how I'm supposed to behave."
"I wasn't."
"You were trying to. But if you really want to dictate someone's behavior, you should start with your own."
She did her best to remain calm. "I am trying to apologize."
"Yeah, I'm sure. You're so sorry."
"I am."
He shook his head. "I don't believe you."
"I can see that."
"Why?" he asked suddenly. He didn't mean to voice the question plaguing him, but that was exactly what he did. He asked why, wanted to know what the hell had convinced her into believing that doing that was good for their relationship.
She set her half-eaten slice of pizza back into the cardboard box it had originally come from. Her gaze not meeting his, she said, "I don't know."
"You're lying."
She bristled at the assertion. But there was no way she would ever convince him that she didn't have a reason. Hoping to save time by being spared her denials, he said, " You didn’t act on a whim. You took the time to go to your lawyer’s, have him draw up those papers, put them in your briefcase, drive home, sit here with me, and consider what you were doing. So ‘I don’t know’ isn’t gonna cut it, because you clearly had a reason in your screwed up head for offering me a chance to become Rachel’s guardian when you never had any intention of letting me do that.”
He didn’t add that he deserved to know why. He had the right; oh, he definitely had the right. But if she didn’t see that, he wouldn’t waste his time trying to convince her.
“I wanted to know if you would sign,” she said, embarrassment making her voice tight and distant.
He scowled. “That’s not a reason.”
“It is.” She jutted her chin in the air in defiance. She obviously had no plans on backing down. “Would you have?”
“Yes.”
There was no hesitation, no thinking. He knew exactly how things would have gone if she’d been honestly making the proposal.
But Cuddy wasn’t convinced. He wasn’t sure if it was the speed of his answer or the content of it that made her doubtful. Whatever the reason though, her suspicion was obvious.
“I don’t believe you,” she said at that moment.
“Of course you don’t. You don’t trust me.”
“No,” she disagreed. “I do.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s the thing: you don’t.”
She looked at him like he was insane, which… he understood. The truth was it was preposterous to be at this point in their relationship and to be without trust. They had gone to school together, worked together, had sex together, lived with one another, and by now, there should have been no doubt as to how the other person felt. And for the most part, there wasn’t. They were close, and in most things, Cuddy trusted him, he knew. But with Rachel?
That was the exception.
That was the one place where Cuddy needed to trust him the most.
And she didn’t.
Not that she was ever going to admit it.
But then he knew that if he hoped to get past this hurdle, he would have to force the truth from her.
Undeterred he reiterated the point. “You don’t trust me, not with Rachel.”
"Stop saying that." The words were rushed, insistent. "I do trust you with -"
"If that were true, you wouldn't need me to sign those papers. You would know -"
"No," she disagreed with a harsh shake of her head. "It's not that simple."
"Really? You're forgetting that I know you. I know how you think, how you behave, and I know when you trust me and when you don't."
She didn't have anything to say to that. He was right; he knew her better than most and certainly well enough to understand her patterns of behavior. She couldn't argue with that.
"Every day I give you hundreds of reasons not to trust me. I don't prove my work. I don't run stupid tests or keep accurate records or waste my time explaining to you why I need what I need half the time. And that's because we both know that I don't need to."
“You’re oversimplifying.”
“I don’t think I am.”
"You are. But even if you weren’t, this isn't work."
He ignored the comment. "You rarely know that I'm right, but you go along with my decisions. You believe that I will eventually be right, because you trust that I -”
"And I can't do that with Rachel," she snapped.
It was the argument that shut him up.
It was the admittance that shut her up.
All day she had circled around the point. She’d allowed herself to think it, act on it, but she had yet to say it to the one person who needed to hear it.
Now he knew.
Part of her had anticipated feeling relieved when he learned of the truth. As it happened though, she just experienced overwhelming pressure to explain herself further.
“You’re right. When it comes to work, I place a lot of faith in you. Maybe too much,” she admitted after a pause. “But… I’m willing to accept the consequences there. I’m sure you think I mindlessly okay whatever you want,” she said with contempt. “That’s not actually how it works though.”
“Doesn’t matter. Whatever the process, at some point, you choose to believe that I’m not going to completely screw things up. Make it about Rachel, however, and you assume the worst.”
Instinctually she understood what he was getting at. She could trust him with other people’s lives; without even second guessing herself, she could and had put her career on the line to let him do his job. A position no sane person would take, she had volunteered herself to be his protector, his freedom. She allowed him to do what he wanted, practice medicine the way he needed to, and she had defended him whenever that didn’t work out the way everyone else hoped it would.
Years of that dynamic had created a set of internal expectations independent of whether the patient lived or died. Though he would be loath to admit it, he had - as he had just demonstrated - come to believe that she would inherently support him. If he were going too far, he thought she would draw him back and conversely be willing to go out on a limb for him when she thought he was right. When she didn’t do that (or perhaps more accurately, when he thought she wasn’t doing that), his sense of betrayal was formidable.
Considering that, she thought she could have anticipated his reaction and the argument he was now trying to make. Her hesitation in this one area was something he didn’t know how to handle. To his mind it was evidence of hypocrisy, as though making that point would cause her to back down.
Truthfully, it might have worked - if the issue involved anything other than Rachel.
“I don’t assume the worst. If I did that, you wouldn’t be living here,” she said darkly. “After some of the things that have happened this weekend? If I thought the absolute worst -”
“Fine. Maybe not the worst, but you don’t trust me with her. You look for reasons not to -”
“I don’t do that.”
“You do, actually. Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t need me to sign papers. You would know.”
He made it sound so simple that she longed for it to be that easy. They would be much happier if it was that clear cut.
“You think I don’t wish it were that simple?”
“Honestly? I have no idea what you want.”
She stopped herself from scoffing at the dramatic stance he was taking. He was being ridiculous. He was acting like a child who had been denied something he wanted. And if Cuddy didn’t make fun of his histrionics, it was because that same behavior was making her consider that perhaps he really would have signed the legal work. Maybe he did want that promised role in Rachel’s life.
Then again, maybe he just didn’t appreciate being denied something.
The fact that she couldn’t say for sure either way was… precisely the problem.
But if she wanted an answer, she knew she would have to start offering some of her own.
“I want to believe you.” Elbows on her knees, she buried her face in her palms. Fingertips rubbing at her temples, she eventually looked at him again. “I wish I could just… trust you when you say….” Her voice trailed off, the bitterness of the thought too much for her to bear. “But every time I get close to doing that, I… can’t.”
He shot her a look that said he was well aware of that pattern. But then how could he not be? She’d made it so obvious that the only thing left for them to discuss was why she kept behaving that way.
The problem with that was she didn’t have an explanation, not really. Faced with his anger, she wanted to understand why she was behaving this way - almost as much as he did. But the best her mind could do was touch on the reason briefly before being abruptly cut off. Her motivation a vague idea in her mind, it was difficult to express that to House.
Especially when he seemed so intent on being as unhelpful and unsympathetic as possible.
She didn’t think she deserved any better.
“She’s my daughter, House.”
“Yeah, I kinda knew that. The whole last name thing sort of gave that away.”
She shook her head. “No, I mean that’s what I think. When I want to trust you, I think, ‘But she’s my daughter.’”
“Cause you don’t want to share.”
“No,” she said after pausing to think about the possibility.
He looked incredulous. “You don’t want to share.”
“Okay,” she conceded. “I don’t.”
“Even though there’s absolutely no contest between us. Even though she will always want you before -”
“I know that.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“But you still think that anyway then.”
She wasn’t ignorant to what he was doing. He wasn’t trying to understand; he was trying to make her feel bad.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Because she’s your daughter.”
“Because….” She fell silent, wishing her mind and words could accurately capture how she felt. Wanting it to happen didn’t mean it did, unfortunately. “Because I feel like I have to protect her” was what she settled for saying.
“From me,” he added to the end of her sentence. With a wave of the hand, he said, “And we’re back to the point you’ve been trying to avoid all night: you don’t trust me with -”
“No, I don’t trust myself with this.”
Finally.
What she had wanted to say was finally out there. No, she thought, not what she wanted to tell him but rather what, apparently, needed to be said. The words were not what she’d expected from herself, the truth both obvious and confusing to her.
Looking at it now, she thought it was clear that all of the second guessing had been proof that she didn’t trust her own judgment. Over the years, she had been told repeatedly that she treated House exceptionally well, that she was blind when it came to him. From the beginning she had purposely ignored those comments, but when the matter involved her own daughter, the influence of those beliefs came out. And why shouldn’t it? Rachel was far more important than any case or patient. Knowing that, Cuddy didn’t distrust him as much as she worried that she was letting her affection for him, her need for him rule everything else.
She hadn’t seen it before, but now it made sense.
“You aren’t sure you can judge whether or not I’m being honest,” he said, reading between the lines.
“I don’t know.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
“I don’t know.”
His eyes flashed bright with renewed irritation. “All right, let’s go through the list: monsters under your bed? Thunderstorms? Somehow, somewhere there’s a duck that -“
“No. Would you stop?”
“Sure, if you answer the question. What are you afraid of?”
“I don’t know.” She laughed nervously as she repeated herself, the giggle breathless and without joy. “I - I’m afraid -”
“Of what?”
“That I’m - or that I might - be trusting you because it’s what I’m used to doing and not because it’s the right thing.”
He couldn’t say that it was a ridiculous fear. It was clear in his mind that it was definitely possible. After all, he’d practically just asked her to trust him with Rachel, because it was normal for her to do so. But that possibility had remained just that, a possibility; it was not reality, and given how reluctant she was to include him in her life, he thought it was unlikely to ever become real.
“You’re not doing that,” he said reassuringly.
Saying that though… it made him realize that her point had not negated his own.
“But even if you were to,” he continued, feeling compelled to bring the matter up. “Even if you let me be in Rachel’s life because it’s what you’re used to doing, who cares? What is it about me that you think isn’t -”
“This isn’t about you.”
“Uh huh.”
“These are my shortcomings.”
“Which involve me,” he pointed out. “So tell me what the real issue is here.”
He tried to sound as nonchalant about it as possible. Truth be told, however, he was afraid to hear what she would say. The flaw within that kept this relationship from progressing was one he wanted named, but that didn’t make it easy to take. That her hesitation was born from something in him bothered him. But there was no avoiding it. And if he had to learn what the issue was, he wanted to do it as ruthlessly quick as possible. He didn’t think he could handle her hedging out of kindness.
Unfortunately that didn’t inspire honesty from her. Shaking her head, she denied it. “There’s nothing -”
“Obviously there’s something or else this wouldn’t be an issue.” She started to disagree with him, but he cut her off. “No, you don’t get to pretend like this isn’t happening. You can say you don’t know and avoid it all you want, but there’s something that is making you hesitate. And whether you want to admit it or not, this is my life too. If I’m doing something wrong, I have a right to know.”
She went quiet. He didn’t know if that meant she was considering the problem or merely letting him talk himself into exhaustion. But he would do his best to ensure that it was the former.
“See here’s the thing: this is clearly a problem. You keep it to yourself, I think you don’t want to make this work.”
“And how do you figure that?” she asked, obviously confused by his assertion.
“We are at a stand still right now. Nothing’s going to change until… something else does. If there’s something that’s stopping you from taking that next step, I’m pretty sure I have a right to know. Since it involves me,” he explained, his voice bordering on churlish.
He didn’t intend to be that way, but he found himself increasingly agitated by the dynamics between them. All he wanted was to get to the root of the problem. But every time he thought, if only for a second, that they might be getting somewhere, the issue sprouted new pathways, new things for him to contend with.
Having spent the previous night and then all day taking care of Rachel, he was in no condition for a protracted conversation. There was no avoiding it, especially now that he was neck deep in it. They’d started discussing the matter, so now it had to be seen through. There were no other options. He just wished he had the patience to get through it without killing anyone.
“If I’m not doing something right,” he told her, his muscles tense as he tried to regain some semblance of calm. “You should tell me. Keep it to yourself, and how is that going to make anything better? Hmm? You don’t tell me, I can’t fix it.”
“Because it’s that simple.”
“It is,” he insisted. “I know what I want, and if there’s something I’m doing that’s preventing me from getting it, then that needs to change.”
Cuddy could see the straight line of logic - and despised him for it. He had never been a practitioner of evolution; a person was who they were, and nothing would change that was his firmly held belief - a belief that she was well aware of. But House had also always held that people were first and foremost selfish creatures, that they did what they wanted out of self-interest and would always act in such a way to benefit themselves. Now he was faced with a conflict between his personal philosophies: did he change and work towards getting what he wanted or did he remain the same and lose everything?
It was obvious what he had chosen.
And she was not flattered by the decision.
Perhaps she should have been. The obstinate Gregory House changing to please the woman he loved - there was something romantic about that notion, that he would do whatever it took to be in her good graces. At least, there could have been romance in the sentiment. Instead she saw calculation.
“This is about getting what you want,” she said with dismay.
He cocked his head to the side, as though he didn’t understand her point. “That’s… a bad thing to you?”
She shrugged. “It feels like you’re willing to say or do whatever is necessary to -”
“I am.”
“Then I guess it doesn’t seem genuine.”
The words felt right to say. They felt like the truth.
“It makes me think that you’re doing this, because you think it’s what I want.”
“Pretty sure I’d have to be in a vegetative state to think -”
“What I mean is you know that this is the way things go. The second you moved in here, you knew that at some point, you would need to start caring about my daughter. I’ve told you that. Several times this weekend even,” she pointed out. “You knew that you would have to show interest in having a relationship with her eventually.”
“And you think I’m lying. You think my saying that I would change whatever was necessary to get you to trust me is proof that I’m… what? Just trying to appease you?”
She hesitated not for the first time that evening. “I don’t know. And I’m afraid that I can’t tell if you’re just giving me what I want or -”
“Yeah, there’s not a chance in Hell that that’s actually what’s going on,” he interrupted snidely. “Forgetting for a second that this moment in the conversation would suggest otherwise, we can both agree: you’re not an idiot. If I were faking it, you would know. And you know that if I were doing that, I’d probably be doing a much better job than I have been of convincing you that I’m not a complete failure when it comes to Rachel.”
She was about to say that she didn’t think he was a complete failure, but he kept talking before she had a chance.
“If I’d planned this out, I would have eased into it. Slowly gotten close to her and then gradually -”
“You’ve thought about this,” she said in realization.
“Today I thought about it,” he clarified instantly. “Looking back on how this weekend went, I could - can - see why you would have your reservations, and I thought that I could have been a lot gentler about everything.”
She was doubtful. “Of course you -”
“You really think I would do that? I would lie about how I feel about Rachel. The man you live with, have sex with, love is the kind of person who would think nothing of using your daughter.”
No. That was her first thought - no. She might have been more tolerant of his flaws than most; those accusations might have been true, but she would not have been fooled by him if he were capable of doing that. And he might have been incredibly screwed up but no. Hearing him say it, she could feel herself realizing that her fear was unfounded.
Things weren’t perfect, but he hadn’t been making all of this up.
“Of course not,” she said with a sigh. “No, that’s not what happened. I’m sorry.”
Last night, he had dealt with her resistance poorly. And in doing so, he had created a mess. Now he had the opportunity to rub in her mistake, to take offense to what she had almost convinced herself of. He had the option, and it was truly tempting. But it wouldn’t solve anything. She would become defensive or worse; she might take his pleasure in her error as a sign that he was trying to fool her. Then they’d be right back where they started, which he absolutely did not want.
So although he wasn’t entirely interested in the sympathetic route, it was what he chose. Scooting closer to her, he bowed his head. Lips pressed to her collarbone, he gave her two soft kisses to her warm skin.
When he straightened his spine once more, he told her, “This wasn’t what you expected. It’s not what I thought would happen either. I thought you would have to force me to care."
And that was the truth. For a good part of this weekend even, he had set himself apart from Rachel. He'd taken care of her, but there had been a wall, something to separate himself from her, from any sort of relationship with her. He'd done his best to ward off any feelings for her - not because he hated the kid, but because looking at himself, he knew that he was not deserving of anything from her. Just as he had never been good enough for her mother, he had believed, still believed, that he was not worthy. In the end though, that didn't seem to matter much. Regardless of his intentions, the pressure of the weekend had slowly forced him closer to Rachel. Now there was no backing off, not even if he wanted to.
"But we're here. And you can't pretend like this isn't happening just because it didn't happen the way you wanted it to." He wasn't trying to be harsh, though he conceded that he might have been. "This... is just the way things are. You - we - have to accept that."
Cuddy looked over at him, her eyes surveying his features. "If you're not ready -”
"Don't use me as an excuse. I might be taken aback by all of this -”
"This being your, what, feelings for Rachel?" He nodded his head and said nothing, which seemed to upset her. "You can't even say it, can you?"
“Pretty sure I articulated it last night,” he pointed out. Reaching over he grabbed one of her hands. His fingers wedged between hers, he hoped the small bit of contact would keep the conversation calm. The last thing he wanted was for things to gear up once more, for the fight to continue when resolution might be in sight.
“I don’t have a problem saying it,” he explained. But that didn’t seem exactly true, so he amended the statement. “All right, maybe a little bit of a problem - demonstrating it anyway. But I know exactly what’s going on, and I have no trouble admitting to myself or to you what it is that I want. If I’m not saying it, it’s because I know you have no intention of giving me any of it. Because you are not comfortable with any of this.”
She took it as an accusation. “Well, I apologize for that,” she said tartly. “After years of you showing no interest in her, I should have prepared myself for you to suddenly change your mind.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But that’s what you want. You’ve decided you’re ready to move forward, and now I have to be too. You’re mad because I’m not ready to -”
“No. I can handle you not being ready. If you had said that, that would have been fine. But treating me like I’m lying? Testing me?” he said with a nose scrunched in disgust. “Telling me that you trust me enough to raise Rachel if something happens to you - and then ‘L.O.L. Just kidding. I just wanted to see how you’d react’?” He glared at her. “You didn’t need to do that.”
He let go of her hand and moved away from her. He reached for another slice of pizza, perhaps to give her the impression that he was simply hungry and not hurt. But Cuddy wasn’t fooled.
He was hurt.
Offended by her behavior.
That wasn’t exactly a revelation. The second things had gone wrong, she’d known he was upset. It wasn’t like he’d tried to hide it or she’d been so stupid as to miss it. And she couldn’t even say she didn’t understand how deep that pain had gone with him. She’d suspected that she’d screwed up spectacularly from the beginning after all. But watching him now, she recognized…
She had cleaved a gaping wound into their relationship. He’d been hurt, and she’d seen that, but what she had failed to realize was just how hard it would be to come back from it. That had always been a possibility, of course; she hadn’t been ignorant to that potential effect. But now she could feel how much worse she’d made things. The difference between idle thought and actual experience, it was impossible to deny the horror of her behavior.
And watching him miserably stuff his mouth full of pizza, she wasn’t even tempted to pretend she hadn’t screwed up. His behavior was giving her all the answers she’d needed. This was, she was gradually beginning to see, not about being denied what he wanted. It wasn’t anger at her for trying to trick him.
He was mad, because he wanted her to offer him that place in Rachel’s life.
He wanted to be her legal guardian if something had happened.
He wanted that, because… as unlikely as it was, as nonsensical as it was, he cared about Rachel.
“Oh God,” Cuddy uttered, instantly capturing his attention.
He smirked before shoveling the rest of the pizza into his mouth. “Just getting that, huh.”
She didn’t even respond to the quip. She just apologized. “I’m sorry.” There was a pause in the hopes that he would say all was forgiven, but he remained quiet. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t - I had - I….”
There didn’t seem to be words that would make her mistake palatable. No excuse would explain her behavior in a way that would make him more forgiving. Her reasons were ones he no doubt already knew, ones he surely rejected with disdain or believed without any sympathy for her. He didn’t need to hear them now. Which left her with… what exactly?
She didn’t know what to do. And afraid that he would take her silence for calculation (which she guessed it was), she refused to waste any more time.
“What I do?” she asked.
He pursed his lips together in thought. “I say we start with a light tea bagging followed up with a tossed salad and finished up with a Brazilian flapjack to -”
“Anything that involves me keeping my pants on?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
He was smiling, amused. But she didn’t take his behavior at face value. There was no way this was over. He hadn’t forgiven her - there was no way he had done that so quickly.
“You’re still mad,” she said tactfully, knowingly.
He was no longer smiling. “No.”
But Cuddy didn’t believe him. “I have a hard time -”
“Fine. I’m gonna hold on a little….. It’s probably gonna fester a bit.” He was being matter of fact, not ominous or punishing. He had no intention of wielding that inevitability like a weapon; after everything they’d been through this weekend, this evening, they needed peace. And he wasn’t going to deny that this would follow them, but he wasn’t interested in belaboring the point either. She was just starting to see his way, and he wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything.
She didn’t deserve the torture of his stubborn anger either.
Well… all right, maybe there was part of him that thought she did, proof alone that he was still a little pissed. But he did his best - would do his best - not to act on that impulse. If he did that, there was no way their relationship could last. If he did that, he would be denying her the same courtesies she had once given him.
How many times had it been when he was unprepared for the natural progress in their relationship? How many instances were there of him screwing everything up and her forgiving him for being unable to move forward? There must have been a dozen moments this weekend alone, where she had, ironically enough, reassured him and tried to convince him that he could eventually be good for Rachel.
As it turned out, Cuddy hadn’t been nearly as convinced as she had led him to believe. The need to encourage him had made her wary. His reluctance had bred suspicion or at least doubt, and now he needed to demonstrate that that had been nerves, fear, and nothing else.
He had to prove he could do the job. And he would never be able to do that if he spent all of his time punishing Cuddy for what she had done. That would just make her angry, even less trusting.
“We’ll get past it,” he said simply, knowing that that was the only thing to do. All other roads led to breaking up, which he didn’t want. Which he knew she didn’t want. “We’ve done it before.”
She bit her lip before saying, “It’s never this screwed up before.”
“No,” he agreed. “I think we can both accept that you’ve done an exceptional job at reaching a new low here.” There was bite to the words, something he hadn’t intended. Within seconds he pointed out, “See? A little bit of holding onto it. But I’ll get over it.”
Cuddy nodded her head. He wasn’t sure if she believed him. Perhaps that was asking too much from her right now, seeing as how guilt ridden she was. For that reason, he wouldn’t push her; he wouldn’t accuse her of not really believing him. It might have been true, but it wouldn’t do him any good to say it out loud.
So he kept quiet and simply motioned for her to move closer to him.
In her response was the proof that he had gotten through to her. There was no hesitation on her part. She wasn’t overtly eager, of course, so as not to appear desperate for his touch. But the lack of reluctance made it clear that she was interested in the comfort he was offering.
Shuffling towards him, she didn’t stop until she was on his couch cushion. One of his arms wrapping around her waist, he pulled her close. Her knees drew up under her body, and she rested her head on his chest. The second she pressed her cheek to him, she said, “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. We’ve covered that.”
Her chin rubbed against him as she shook her head. “Am I boring you with this?”
“Absolutely,” he said, hugging her tightly against him. “I mean, if you’re going to say the same thing over and over, I’d prefer something along the lines of ‘House’s dick is -”
“You’re turning this conversation into jokes about your penis.”
“Oh my dick is no joke.”
The sound she made was a mix of a groan and a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“All right. I’ll be serious,” he said. His mood turned somber as he explained, “I don’t need you to keep apologizing. I get it. You were amazingly and spectacularly wrong, and now you’re sorry about that. I understand. But if you we’re going to move on, you can’t bring it up every -”
“So you just want to pretend like none of this ever happened?” she asked, craning her head back so she could look at him.
“Hardly. I just don’t need a reminder every minute. That’s all.”
“Okay.” She had no choice but to agree. In her opinion, there couldn’t be enough apologies offered. They had quickly gone through the angry stage, and part of Cuddy worried that they were rushing through as to avoid considering what her behavior had meant. But even if they really were moving on, she still felt the need to let him know how awful she felt. As she had been the one to mess things up however, she knew she had to do what he wanted. It was not her call to do something that he was uncomfortable with; she had done that enough already. “I just wish there was something I could do to -”
“Make you feel better?” he supplied calmly and without malice.
“No. To make you feel better.”
“You’re not going to fix this by irritating me with your narcissism. Although I know you think that works… not gonna happen.” One of his hands wandering to her ass, he said, “On the other hand, you haven’t taken your regular dose of birth control. You had to take the morning after -”
“I’m pretty sure those two things are related.”
“Of course.” He patted her bottom patronizingly. “And I’m thinking the period you have after that is gonna be terrible.”
She groaned. “I’m trying not to think about it.”
He ignored her and finished, “And knowing that that’s happening to you will be of great - really great - comfort to me personally.” She glared at him, triggering an additional remark. “After I buy a raft for Rachel and me to -”
“Is there something inside of you that insists on being immature in -”
“Are you seriously asking that question right now?”
She sighed. “No. I clearly know the answer.”
“Exactly.” But he must have felt uncomfortable with leaving things there, because he asked, “You want me to be serious?”
Truthfully Cuddy didn’t mind things taking on a lighter tone. Again, she worried that they were rushing to get to the other side, hurrying past their feelings of anger and mistrust so that they wouldn’t have to consider what any of it meant. Rationally she feared that was happening. But selfishly she had no problem feeling, if only for a moment, that things were okay between them. For that reason, she was tempted to tell him no. She didn’t want to continue this fight, didn’t want to be confronted once more with her failures as a lover.
And yet, in spite of that, she was not ready to move on. Her gaze catching sight of the paperwork he’d thrown onto the ground, she suddenly needed to know.
Not answering the question, she asked, “Are you going to sign them?” She looked back at him again to see what his answer would be.
“You don’t want me to.”
“So?” Somehow that didn’t seem to matter much anymore. After what she’d done, what she wanted seemed irrelevant.
“I could sign. Right now, I’m sure I could do just about anything I wanted, and you’d let me.”
“That’s not -”
“Trust me. It’s true. But if I act on that, at some point, you’re going to resent me for it. And if I use this to force your hand with Rachel, you’ll never forgive me - and you’ll never accept it. And maybe I could convince myself that I could live with that, but knowing that you would feel that way?” He shook his head. “It’s not what either of us want if I’ve had to force you to give me what I want.”
He was right. If he made himself the potential guardian for Rachel, Cuddy would be unhappy about that. He had a point. But… he wasn’t insisting on signing now, because he thought that she would eventually come to her senses. She wasn’t sure that would happen.
No, she no longer doubted his honesty here. He’d more than proved that he cared about Rachel; despite Cuddy’s misgivings, the truth was clear. The issue was not about trusting that he wanted the best for her daughter.
The problem was momentum - or the lack of it.
He was doing the right thing, the polite thing by backing off. He had said he’d regretted pushing her this weekend, and she doubted that for the sake of his own pride he would pressure her in this regard. She feared that would be the problem them though. If he didn’t force the matter, would she? Would she willingly go in that direction?
The answer seemed to be obvious. If she’d had the desire to share her daughter with House, she would have taken those steps already. At least, if she’d had the ability to act on that desire, she would have anyway. But instead… this had happened. And she feared that, if left to her own devices, nothing would change.
“I need a date,” she said suddenly, knowing that she would require incentive. “I’m sorry. If that’s where this is headed, I need a date.”
“Because you’ll never get there on your own.”
She nodded her head. “No.” The truth was harsher uttered aloud than it had been solely in her head. “I want to think otherwise,” she explained, trying to soften the blow. “But I’m worried that…. I need that push.”
“Okay.” All in all, he seemed to be taking the request well. He seemed to be taking all of this well. Maybe that made sense, she thought; he was on the cusp of getting what he wanted, as long as he didn’t upset her.
At least that was what she believed until he said, “You have until my birthday.”
Then she thought he was picking the first conceivable date available to force her into something she wasn’t ready for. As though he were only paying lip service to her insecurities, he was determined to make this happen as quickly as he could - that was what it felt like to her.
Frustrated she muttered, “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“You said you needed a push.”
“Yeah, a push. Not a -”
“That’s not how this works,” he interrupted. “You want my help, you don’t get to choose the terms. And if this is really supposed to happen, the longer you take, the harder this is going to be for everyone.”
She understood that. Her hesitation created friction between them and, though he would probably never say it, doubt in him. The more time she needed, the worse it would be for them. And that was to say nothing of how it would affect Rachel. It was hard for Cuddy to admit, but if she thought about it from Rachel’s perspective, she thought her reluctance had made or would make her daughter all the more resistant to House’s affections. If Cuddy were suspicious of House’s behavior, then of course, that would alter how Rachel felt.
But that didn’t mean Cuddy could just force her way to acceptance within a matter of months.
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), Chapter 19 (Part 3), Chapter 19 (Part 4), Chapter 20 (Part 1), Chapter 20 (Part 2), Chapter 21 (Part 1), Chapter 21 (Part 2), Chapter 22 (Part 1), Chapter 22 (Part 2), Chapter 23 (Part 1), Chapter 23 (Part 2), Chapter 24 (Part 1), Chapter 24 (Part 2), Chapter 25 (Part 1), Chapter 25 (Part 2), Chapter 25 (Part 3)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
He shrugged, clearly unconcerned with the choice she was making. "R.I.P., genetically screwed potential spawn of mine."
"Yeah, I'm sure you're really upset," she said dryly, grabbing a slice of pizza laden with vegetables. If she'd been hungry earlier, she certainly wasn't now. But the last time she'd taken Plan B, it had made her dizzy, the influx of hormones nauseating. Admittedly that had happened a few years ago, around the time she'd first started sleeping with House after Lucas. They'd been using condoms until she'd been sure House's penchant for prostitutes hadn't caught up with him in addition to the pill; one night she’d been particularly insistent, and they’d broken the condom, and out of fear, she’d taken the morning after pill. That night, while hunched over the toilet, she’d regretted that choice. Naturally, it was possible that in the years since then her body's tolerance had changed, but she wasn't willing to risk it.
Not when there was already so much wrong with this situation anyway.
Forcing herself to take a bite, she recognized that the food was fine. But it didn't taste good. She wondered, as House reached for his second slice, if he felt the same way. Somehow she doubted it.
So she stayed quiet and ate. They both did. At one point, he reached over and stole her water. He took a few sips before handing it back to her, the act as domestic as it got for them. But she wasn't fooled into thinking everything was okay. Outwardly they were calm, but beneath the surface, the friction between them was palpable. Bitterness and anger churned, a sinister undercurrent lurking around them. For a tiny moment in time, she put up with it. She told herself she would deal with it as long as it took for her to give her stomach a fighting chance with the pill.
When she was halfway finished with her second piece, she felt she had stayed silent long enough.
That didn’t make it easier to speak up though.
Wanting to say something was far different than knowing what to say, and the tension between them so intense, Cuddy really didn’t know what would ease that feeling. She just knew that she had to talk.
Her stomach clenched with nerves, she licked her lips. Toying with the pizza in her hands, she abruptly said, “I’m sorry.”
His head bobbed slightly. No sound came out, but it was clear that he was attempting to scoff, snort, or make a noise that cast doubt on her proclamation. As if it wasn’t hard enough for her, he felt the need to make it more difficult by treating her as though she didn’t mean it.
The thing was - she did mean it. More than anything she wished she hadn’t had her lawyer draw up those papers. She still needed answers, but she regretted being so stupid as to think she could get away with that. She regretted acting on that idea, ensuring that the conversation from here on out would be that much harder to get through.
But there was no way House believed that. Everything about his demeanor cast doubt on her honesty, much to her dismay.
"Don't," she said, her voice pleading. "Don't be like -”
"No." The rule about interrupting clearly broken and forgotten, there was no point in bringing it up. She doubted he would have appreciated it. "No," he repeated firmly. "After what you did, you don't get to tell me how I'm supposed to behave."
"I wasn't."
"You were trying to. But if you really want to dictate someone's behavior, you should start with your own."
She did her best to remain calm. "I am trying to apologize."
"Yeah, I'm sure. You're so sorry."
"I am."
He shook his head. "I don't believe you."
"I can see that."
"Why?" he asked suddenly. He didn't mean to voice the question plaguing him, but that was exactly what he did. He asked why, wanted to know what the hell had convinced her into believing that doing that was good for their relationship.
She set her half-eaten slice of pizza back into the cardboard box it had originally come from. Her gaze not meeting his, she said, "I don't know."
"You're lying."
She bristled at the assertion. But there was no way she would ever convince him that she didn't have a reason. Hoping to save time by being spared her denials, he said, " You didn’t act on a whim. You took the time to go to your lawyer’s, have him draw up those papers, put them in your briefcase, drive home, sit here with me, and consider what you were doing. So ‘I don’t know’ isn’t gonna cut it, because you clearly had a reason in your screwed up head for offering me a chance to become Rachel’s guardian when you never had any intention of letting me do that.”
He didn’t add that he deserved to know why. He had the right; oh, he definitely had the right. But if she didn’t see that, he wouldn’t waste his time trying to convince her.
“I wanted to know if you would sign,” she said, embarrassment making her voice tight and distant.
He scowled. “That’s not a reason.”
“It is.” She jutted her chin in the air in defiance. She obviously had no plans on backing down. “Would you have?”
“Yes.”
There was no hesitation, no thinking. He knew exactly how things would have gone if she’d been honestly making the proposal.
But Cuddy wasn’t convinced. He wasn’t sure if it was the speed of his answer or the content of it that made her doubtful. Whatever the reason though, her suspicion was obvious.
“I don’t believe you,” she said at that moment.
“Of course you don’t. You don’t trust me.”
“No,” she disagreed. “I do.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s the thing: you don’t.”
She looked at him like he was insane, which… he understood. The truth was it was preposterous to be at this point in their relationship and to be without trust. They had gone to school together, worked together, had sex together, lived with one another, and by now, there should have been no doubt as to how the other person felt. And for the most part, there wasn’t. They were close, and in most things, Cuddy trusted him, he knew. But with Rachel?
That was the exception.
That was the one place where Cuddy needed to trust him the most.
And she didn’t.
Not that she was ever going to admit it.
But then he knew that if he hoped to get past this hurdle, he would have to force the truth from her.
Undeterred he reiterated the point. “You don’t trust me, not with Rachel.”
"Stop saying that." The words were rushed, insistent. "I do trust you with -"
"If that were true, you wouldn't need me to sign those papers. You would know -"
"No," she disagreed with a harsh shake of her head. "It's not that simple."
"Really? You're forgetting that I know you. I know how you think, how you behave, and I know when you trust me and when you don't."
She didn't have anything to say to that. He was right; he knew her better than most and certainly well enough to understand her patterns of behavior. She couldn't argue with that.
"Every day I give you hundreds of reasons not to trust me. I don't prove my work. I don't run stupid tests or keep accurate records or waste my time explaining to you why I need what I need half the time. And that's because we both know that I don't need to."
“You’re oversimplifying.”
“I don’t think I am.”
"You are. But even if you weren’t, this isn't work."
He ignored the comment. "You rarely know that I'm right, but you go along with my decisions. You believe that I will eventually be right, because you trust that I -”
"And I can't do that with Rachel," she snapped.
It was the argument that shut him up.
It was the admittance that shut her up.
All day she had circled around the point. She’d allowed herself to think it, act on it, but she had yet to say it to the one person who needed to hear it.
Now he knew.
Part of her had anticipated feeling relieved when he learned of the truth. As it happened though, she just experienced overwhelming pressure to explain herself further.
“You’re right. When it comes to work, I place a lot of faith in you. Maybe too much,” she admitted after a pause. “But… I’m willing to accept the consequences there. I’m sure you think I mindlessly okay whatever you want,” she said with contempt. “That’s not actually how it works though.”
“Doesn’t matter. Whatever the process, at some point, you choose to believe that I’m not going to completely screw things up. Make it about Rachel, however, and you assume the worst.”
Instinctually she understood what he was getting at. She could trust him with other people’s lives; without even second guessing herself, she could and had put her career on the line to let him do his job. A position no sane person would take, she had volunteered herself to be his protector, his freedom. She allowed him to do what he wanted, practice medicine the way he needed to, and she had defended him whenever that didn’t work out the way everyone else hoped it would.
Years of that dynamic had created a set of internal expectations independent of whether the patient lived or died. Though he would be loath to admit it, he had - as he had just demonstrated - come to believe that she would inherently support him. If he were going too far, he thought she would draw him back and conversely be willing to go out on a limb for him when she thought he was right. When she didn’t do that (or perhaps more accurately, when he thought she wasn’t doing that), his sense of betrayal was formidable.
Considering that, she thought she could have anticipated his reaction and the argument he was now trying to make. Her hesitation in this one area was something he didn’t know how to handle. To his mind it was evidence of hypocrisy, as though making that point would cause her to back down.
Truthfully, it might have worked - if the issue involved anything other than Rachel.
“I don’t assume the worst. If I did that, you wouldn’t be living here,” she said darkly. “After some of the things that have happened this weekend? If I thought the absolute worst -”
“Fine. Maybe not the worst, but you don’t trust me with her. You look for reasons not to -”
“I don’t do that.”
“You do, actually. Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t need me to sign papers. You would know.”
He made it sound so simple that she longed for it to be that easy. They would be much happier if it was that clear cut.
“You think I don’t wish it were that simple?”
“Honestly? I have no idea what you want.”
She stopped herself from scoffing at the dramatic stance he was taking. He was being ridiculous. He was acting like a child who had been denied something he wanted. And if Cuddy didn’t make fun of his histrionics, it was because that same behavior was making her consider that perhaps he really would have signed the legal work. Maybe he did want that promised role in Rachel’s life.
Then again, maybe he just didn’t appreciate being denied something.
The fact that she couldn’t say for sure either way was… precisely the problem.
But if she wanted an answer, she knew she would have to start offering some of her own.
“I want to believe you.” Elbows on her knees, she buried her face in her palms. Fingertips rubbing at her temples, she eventually looked at him again. “I wish I could just… trust you when you say….” Her voice trailed off, the bitterness of the thought too much for her to bear. “But every time I get close to doing that, I… can’t.”
He shot her a look that said he was well aware of that pattern. But then how could he not be? She’d made it so obvious that the only thing left for them to discuss was why she kept behaving that way.
The problem with that was she didn’t have an explanation, not really. Faced with his anger, she wanted to understand why she was behaving this way - almost as much as he did. But the best her mind could do was touch on the reason briefly before being abruptly cut off. Her motivation a vague idea in her mind, it was difficult to express that to House.
Especially when he seemed so intent on being as unhelpful and unsympathetic as possible.
She didn’t think she deserved any better.
“She’s my daughter, House.”
“Yeah, I kinda knew that. The whole last name thing sort of gave that away.”
She shook her head. “No, I mean that’s what I think. When I want to trust you, I think, ‘But she’s my daughter.’”
“Cause you don’t want to share.”
“No,” she said after pausing to think about the possibility.
He looked incredulous. “You don’t want to share.”
“Okay,” she conceded. “I don’t.”
“Even though there’s absolutely no contest between us. Even though she will always want you before -”
“I know that.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“But you still think that anyway then.”
She wasn’t ignorant to what he was doing. He wasn’t trying to understand; he was trying to make her feel bad.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Because she’s your daughter.”
“Because….” She fell silent, wishing her mind and words could accurately capture how she felt. Wanting it to happen didn’t mean it did, unfortunately. “Because I feel like I have to protect her” was what she settled for saying.
“From me,” he added to the end of her sentence. With a wave of the hand, he said, “And we’re back to the point you’ve been trying to avoid all night: you don’t trust me with -”
“No, I don’t trust myself with this.”
Finally.
What she had wanted to say was finally out there. No, she thought, not what she wanted to tell him but rather what, apparently, needed to be said. The words were not what she’d expected from herself, the truth both obvious and confusing to her.
Looking at it now, she thought it was clear that all of the second guessing had been proof that she didn’t trust her own judgment. Over the years, she had been told repeatedly that she treated House exceptionally well, that she was blind when it came to him. From the beginning she had purposely ignored those comments, but when the matter involved her own daughter, the influence of those beliefs came out. And why shouldn’t it? Rachel was far more important than any case or patient. Knowing that, Cuddy didn’t distrust him as much as she worried that she was letting her affection for him, her need for him rule everything else.
She hadn’t seen it before, but now it made sense.
“You aren’t sure you can judge whether or not I’m being honest,” he said, reading between the lines.
“I don’t know.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
“I don’t know.”
His eyes flashed bright with renewed irritation. “All right, let’s go through the list: monsters under your bed? Thunderstorms? Somehow, somewhere there’s a duck that -“
“No. Would you stop?”
“Sure, if you answer the question. What are you afraid of?”
“I don’t know.” She laughed nervously as she repeated herself, the giggle breathless and without joy. “I - I’m afraid -”
“Of what?”
“That I’m - or that I might - be trusting you because it’s what I’m used to doing and not because it’s the right thing.”
He couldn’t say that it was a ridiculous fear. It was clear in his mind that it was definitely possible. After all, he’d practically just asked her to trust him with Rachel, because it was normal for her to do so. But that possibility had remained just that, a possibility; it was not reality, and given how reluctant she was to include him in her life, he thought it was unlikely to ever become real.
“You’re not doing that,” he said reassuringly.
Saying that though… it made him realize that her point had not negated his own.
“But even if you were to,” he continued, feeling compelled to bring the matter up. “Even if you let me be in Rachel’s life because it’s what you’re used to doing, who cares? What is it about me that you think isn’t -”
“This isn’t about you.”
“Uh huh.”
“These are my shortcomings.”
“Which involve me,” he pointed out. “So tell me what the real issue is here.”
He tried to sound as nonchalant about it as possible. Truth be told, however, he was afraid to hear what she would say. The flaw within that kept this relationship from progressing was one he wanted named, but that didn’t make it easy to take. That her hesitation was born from something in him bothered him. But there was no avoiding it. And if he had to learn what the issue was, he wanted to do it as ruthlessly quick as possible. He didn’t think he could handle her hedging out of kindness.
Unfortunately that didn’t inspire honesty from her. Shaking her head, she denied it. “There’s nothing -”
“Obviously there’s something or else this wouldn’t be an issue.” She started to disagree with him, but he cut her off. “No, you don’t get to pretend like this isn’t happening. You can say you don’t know and avoid it all you want, but there’s something that is making you hesitate. And whether you want to admit it or not, this is my life too. If I’m doing something wrong, I have a right to know.”
She went quiet. He didn’t know if that meant she was considering the problem or merely letting him talk himself into exhaustion. But he would do his best to ensure that it was the former.
“See here’s the thing: this is clearly a problem. You keep it to yourself, I think you don’t want to make this work.”
“And how do you figure that?” she asked, obviously confused by his assertion.
“We are at a stand still right now. Nothing’s going to change until… something else does. If there’s something that’s stopping you from taking that next step, I’m pretty sure I have a right to know. Since it involves me,” he explained, his voice bordering on churlish.
He didn’t intend to be that way, but he found himself increasingly agitated by the dynamics between them. All he wanted was to get to the root of the problem. But every time he thought, if only for a second, that they might be getting somewhere, the issue sprouted new pathways, new things for him to contend with.
Having spent the previous night and then all day taking care of Rachel, he was in no condition for a protracted conversation. There was no avoiding it, especially now that he was neck deep in it. They’d started discussing the matter, so now it had to be seen through. There were no other options. He just wished he had the patience to get through it without killing anyone.
“If I’m not doing something right,” he told her, his muscles tense as he tried to regain some semblance of calm. “You should tell me. Keep it to yourself, and how is that going to make anything better? Hmm? You don’t tell me, I can’t fix it.”
“Because it’s that simple.”
“It is,” he insisted. “I know what I want, and if there’s something I’m doing that’s preventing me from getting it, then that needs to change.”
Cuddy could see the straight line of logic - and despised him for it. He had never been a practitioner of evolution; a person was who they were, and nothing would change that was his firmly held belief - a belief that she was well aware of. But House had also always held that people were first and foremost selfish creatures, that they did what they wanted out of self-interest and would always act in such a way to benefit themselves. Now he was faced with a conflict between his personal philosophies: did he change and work towards getting what he wanted or did he remain the same and lose everything?
It was obvious what he had chosen.
And she was not flattered by the decision.
Perhaps she should have been. The obstinate Gregory House changing to please the woman he loved - there was something romantic about that notion, that he would do whatever it took to be in her good graces. At least, there could have been romance in the sentiment. Instead she saw calculation.
“This is about getting what you want,” she said with dismay.
He cocked his head to the side, as though he didn’t understand her point. “That’s… a bad thing to you?”
She shrugged. “It feels like you’re willing to say or do whatever is necessary to -”
“I am.”
“Then I guess it doesn’t seem genuine.”
The words felt right to say. They felt like the truth.
“It makes me think that you’re doing this, because you think it’s what I want.”
“Pretty sure I’d have to be in a vegetative state to think -”
“What I mean is you know that this is the way things go. The second you moved in here, you knew that at some point, you would need to start caring about my daughter. I’ve told you that. Several times this weekend even,” she pointed out. “You knew that you would have to show interest in having a relationship with her eventually.”
“And you think I’m lying. You think my saying that I would change whatever was necessary to get you to trust me is proof that I’m… what? Just trying to appease you?”
She hesitated not for the first time that evening. “I don’t know. And I’m afraid that I can’t tell if you’re just giving me what I want or -”
“Yeah, there’s not a chance in Hell that that’s actually what’s going on,” he interrupted snidely. “Forgetting for a second that this moment in the conversation would suggest otherwise, we can both agree: you’re not an idiot. If I were faking it, you would know. And you know that if I were doing that, I’d probably be doing a much better job than I have been of convincing you that I’m not a complete failure when it comes to Rachel.”
She was about to say that she didn’t think he was a complete failure, but he kept talking before she had a chance.
“If I’d planned this out, I would have eased into it. Slowly gotten close to her and then gradually -”
“You’ve thought about this,” she said in realization.
“Today I thought about it,” he clarified instantly. “Looking back on how this weekend went, I could - can - see why you would have your reservations, and I thought that I could have been a lot gentler about everything.”
She was doubtful. “Of course you -”
“You really think I would do that? I would lie about how I feel about Rachel. The man you live with, have sex with, love is the kind of person who would think nothing of using your daughter.”
No. That was her first thought - no. She might have been more tolerant of his flaws than most; those accusations might have been true, but she would not have been fooled by him if he were capable of doing that. And he might have been incredibly screwed up but no. Hearing him say it, she could feel herself realizing that her fear was unfounded.
Things weren’t perfect, but he hadn’t been making all of this up.
“Of course not,” she said with a sigh. “No, that’s not what happened. I’m sorry.”
Last night, he had dealt with her resistance poorly. And in doing so, he had created a mess. Now he had the opportunity to rub in her mistake, to take offense to what she had almost convinced herself of. He had the option, and it was truly tempting. But it wouldn’t solve anything. She would become defensive or worse; she might take his pleasure in her error as a sign that he was trying to fool her. Then they’d be right back where they started, which he absolutely did not want.
So although he wasn’t entirely interested in the sympathetic route, it was what he chose. Scooting closer to her, he bowed his head. Lips pressed to her collarbone, he gave her two soft kisses to her warm skin.
When he straightened his spine once more, he told her, “This wasn’t what you expected. It’s not what I thought would happen either. I thought you would have to force me to care."
And that was the truth. For a good part of this weekend even, he had set himself apart from Rachel. He'd taken care of her, but there had been a wall, something to separate himself from her, from any sort of relationship with her. He'd done his best to ward off any feelings for her - not because he hated the kid, but because looking at himself, he knew that he was not deserving of anything from her. Just as he had never been good enough for her mother, he had believed, still believed, that he was not worthy. In the end though, that didn't seem to matter much. Regardless of his intentions, the pressure of the weekend had slowly forced him closer to Rachel. Now there was no backing off, not even if he wanted to.
"But we're here. And you can't pretend like this isn't happening just because it didn't happen the way you wanted it to." He wasn't trying to be harsh, though he conceded that he might have been. "This... is just the way things are. You - we - have to accept that."
Cuddy looked over at him, her eyes surveying his features. "If you're not ready -”
"Don't use me as an excuse. I might be taken aback by all of this -”
"This being your, what, feelings for Rachel?" He nodded his head and said nothing, which seemed to upset her. "You can't even say it, can you?"
“Pretty sure I articulated it last night,” he pointed out. Reaching over he grabbed one of her hands. His fingers wedged between hers, he hoped the small bit of contact would keep the conversation calm. The last thing he wanted was for things to gear up once more, for the fight to continue when resolution might be in sight.
“I don’t have a problem saying it,” he explained. But that didn’t seem exactly true, so he amended the statement. “All right, maybe a little bit of a problem - demonstrating it anyway. But I know exactly what’s going on, and I have no trouble admitting to myself or to you what it is that I want. If I’m not saying it, it’s because I know you have no intention of giving me any of it. Because you are not comfortable with any of this.”
She took it as an accusation. “Well, I apologize for that,” she said tartly. “After years of you showing no interest in her, I should have prepared myself for you to suddenly change your mind.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But that’s what you want. You’ve decided you’re ready to move forward, and now I have to be too. You’re mad because I’m not ready to -”
“No. I can handle you not being ready. If you had said that, that would have been fine. But treating me like I’m lying? Testing me?” he said with a nose scrunched in disgust. “Telling me that you trust me enough to raise Rachel if something happens to you - and then ‘L.O.L. Just kidding. I just wanted to see how you’d react’?” He glared at her. “You didn’t need to do that.”
He let go of her hand and moved away from her. He reached for another slice of pizza, perhaps to give her the impression that he was simply hungry and not hurt. But Cuddy wasn’t fooled.
He was hurt.
Offended by her behavior.
That wasn’t exactly a revelation. The second things had gone wrong, she’d known he was upset. It wasn’t like he’d tried to hide it or she’d been so stupid as to miss it. And she couldn’t even say she didn’t understand how deep that pain had gone with him. She’d suspected that she’d screwed up spectacularly from the beginning after all. But watching him now, she recognized…
She had cleaved a gaping wound into their relationship. He’d been hurt, and she’d seen that, but what she had failed to realize was just how hard it would be to come back from it. That had always been a possibility, of course; she hadn’t been ignorant to that potential effect. But now she could feel how much worse she’d made things. The difference between idle thought and actual experience, it was impossible to deny the horror of her behavior.
And watching him miserably stuff his mouth full of pizza, she wasn’t even tempted to pretend she hadn’t screwed up. His behavior was giving her all the answers she’d needed. This was, she was gradually beginning to see, not about being denied what he wanted. It wasn’t anger at her for trying to trick him.
He was mad, because he wanted her to offer him that place in Rachel’s life.
He wanted to be her legal guardian if something had happened.
He wanted that, because… as unlikely as it was, as nonsensical as it was, he cared about Rachel.
“Oh God,” Cuddy uttered, instantly capturing his attention.
He smirked before shoveling the rest of the pizza into his mouth. “Just getting that, huh.”
She didn’t even respond to the quip. She just apologized. “I’m sorry.” There was a pause in the hopes that he would say all was forgiven, but he remained quiet. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t - I had - I….”
There didn’t seem to be words that would make her mistake palatable. No excuse would explain her behavior in a way that would make him more forgiving. Her reasons were ones he no doubt already knew, ones he surely rejected with disdain or believed without any sympathy for her. He didn’t need to hear them now. Which left her with… what exactly?
She didn’t know what to do. And afraid that he would take her silence for calculation (which she guessed it was), she refused to waste any more time.
“What I do?” she asked.
He pursed his lips together in thought. “I say we start with a light tea bagging followed up with a tossed salad and finished up with a Brazilian flapjack to -”
“Anything that involves me keeping my pants on?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
He was smiling, amused. But she didn’t take his behavior at face value. There was no way this was over. He hadn’t forgiven her - there was no way he had done that so quickly.
“You’re still mad,” she said tactfully, knowingly.
He was no longer smiling. “No.”
But Cuddy didn’t believe him. “I have a hard time -”
“Fine. I’m gonna hold on a little….. It’s probably gonna fester a bit.” He was being matter of fact, not ominous or punishing. He had no intention of wielding that inevitability like a weapon; after everything they’d been through this weekend, this evening, they needed peace. And he wasn’t going to deny that this would follow them, but he wasn’t interested in belaboring the point either. She was just starting to see his way, and he wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything.
She didn’t deserve the torture of his stubborn anger either.
Well… all right, maybe there was part of him that thought she did, proof alone that he was still a little pissed. But he did his best - would do his best - not to act on that impulse. If he did that, there was no way their relationship could last. If he did that, he would be denying her the same courtesies she had once given him.
How many times had it been when he was unprepared for the natural progress in their relationship? How many instances were there of him screwing everything up and her forgiving him for being unable to move forward? There must have been a dozen moments this weekend alone, where she had, ironically enough, reassured him and tried to convince him that he could eventually be good for Rachel.
As it turned out, Cuddy hadn’t been nearly as convinced as she had led him to believe. The need to encourage him had made her wary. His reluctance had bred suspicion or at least doubt, and now he needed to demonstrate that that had been nerves, fear, and nothing else.
He had to prove he could do the job. And he would never be able to do that if he spent all of his time punishing Cuddy for what she had done. That would just make her angry, even less trusting.
“We’ll get past it,” he said simply, knowing that that was the only thing to do. All other roads led to breaking up, which he didn’t want. Which he knew she didn’t want. “We’ve done it before.”
She bit her lip before saying, “It’s never this screwed up before.”
“No,” he agreed. “I think we can both accept that you’ve done an exceptional job at reaching a new low here.” There was bite to the words, something he hadn’t intended. Within seconds he pointed out, “See? A little bit of holding onto it. But I’ll get over it.”
Cuddy nodded her head. He wasn’t sure if she believed him. Perhaps that was asking too much from her right now, seeing as how guilt ridden she was. For that reason, he wouldn’t push her; he wouldn’t accuse her of not really believing him. It might have been true, but it wouldn’t do him any good to say it out loud.
So he kept quiet and simply motioned for her to move closer to him.
In her response was the proof that he had gotten through to her. There was no hesitation on her part. She wasn’t overtly eager, of course, so as not to appear desperate for his touch. But the lack of reluctance made it clear that she was interested in the comfort he was offering.
Shuffling towards him, she didn’t stop until she was on his couch cushion. One of his arms wrapping around her waist, he pulled her close. Her knees drew up under her body, and she rested her head on his chest. The second she pressed her cheek to him, she said, “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. We’ve covered that.”
Her chin rubbed against him as she shook her head. “Am I boring you with this?”
“Absolutely,” he said, hugging her tightly against him. “I mean, if you’re going to say the same thing over and over, I’d prefer something along the lines of ‘House’s dick is -”
“You’re turning this conversation into jokes about your penis.”
“Oh my dick is no joke.”
The sound she made was a mix of a groan and a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“All right. I’ll be serious,” he said. His mood turned somber as he explained, “I don’t need you to keep apologizing. I get it. You were amazingly and spectacularly wrong, and now you’re sorry about that. I understand. But if you we’re going to move on, you can’t bring it up every -”
“So you just want to pretend like none of this ever happened?” she asked, craning her head back so she could look at him.
“Hardly. I just don’t need a reminder every minute. That’s all.”
“Okay.” She had no choice but to agree. In her opinion, there couldn’t be enough apologies offered. They had quickly gone through the angry stage, and part of Cuddy worried that they were rushing through as to avoid considering what her behavior had meant. But even if they really were moving on, she still felt the need to let him know how awful she felt. As she had been the one to mess things up however, she knew she had to do what he wanted. It was not her call to do something that he was uncomfortable with; she had done that enough already. “I just wish there was something I could do to -”
“Make you feel better?” he supplied calmly and without malice.
“No. To make you feel better.”
“You’re not going to fix this by irritating me with your narcissism. Although I know you think that works… not gonna happen.” One of his hands wandering to her ass, he said, “On the other hand, you haven’t taken your regular dose of birth control. You had to take the morning after -”
“I’m pretty sure those two things are related.”
“Of course.” He patted her bottom patronizingly. “And I’m thinking the period you have after that is gonna be terrible.”
She groaned. “I’m trying not to think about it.”
He ignored her and finished, “And knowing that that’s happening to you will be of great - really great - comfort to me personally.” She glared at him, triggering an additional remark. “After I buy a raft for Rachel and me to -”
“Is there something inside of you that insists on being immature in -”
“Are you seriously asking that question right now?”
She sighed. “No. I clearly know the answer.”
“Exactly.” But he must have felt uncomfortable with leaving things there, because he asked, “You want me to be serious?”
Truthfully Cuddy didn’t mind things taking on a lighter tone. Again, she worried that they were rushing to get to the other side, hurrying past their feelings of anger and mistrust so that they wouldn’t have to consider what any of it meant. Rationally she feared that was happening. But selfishly she had no problem feeling, if only for a moment, that things were okay between them. For that reason, she was tempted to tell him no. She didn’t want to continue this fight, didn’t want to be confronted once more with her failures as a lover.
And yet, in spite of that, she was not ready to move on. Her gaze catching sight of the paperwork he’d thrown onto the ground, she suddenly needed to know.
Not answering the question, she asked, “Are you going to sign them?” She looked back at him again to see what his answer would be.
“You don’t want me to.”
“So?” Somehow that didn’t seem to matter much anymore. After what she’d done, what she wanted seemed irrelevant.
“I could sign. Right now, I’m sure I could do just about anything I wanted, and you’d let me.”
“That’s not -”
“Trust me. It’s true. But if I act on that, at some point, you’re going to resent me for it. And if I use this to force your hand with Rachel, you’ll never forgive me - and you’ll never accept it. And maybe I could convince myself that I could live with that, but knowing that you would feel that way?” He shook his head. “It’s not what either of us want if I’ve had to force you to give me what I want.”
He was right. If he made himself the potential guardian for Rachel, Cuddy would be unhappy about that. He had a point. But… he wasn’t insisting on signing now, because he thought that she would eventually come to her senses. She wasn’t sure that would happen.
No, she no longer doubted his honesty here. He’d more than proved that he cared about Rachel; despite Cuddy’s misgivings, the truth was clear. The issue was not about trusting that he wanted the best for her daughter.
The problem was momentum - or the lack of it.
He was doing the right thing, the polite thing by backing off. He had said he’d regretted pushing her this weekend, and she doubted that for the sake of his own pride he would pressure her in this regard. She feared that would be the problem them though. If he didn’t force the matter, would she? Would she willingly go in that direction?
The answer seemed to be obvious. If she’d had the desire to share her daughter with House, she would have taken those steps already. At least, if she’d had the ability to act on that desire, she would have anyway. But instead… this had happened. And she feared that, if left to her own devices, nothing would change.
“I need a date,” she said suddenly, knowing that she would require incentive. “I’m sorry. If that’s where this is headed, I need a date.”
“Because you’ll never get there on your own.”
She nodded her head. “No.” The truth was harsher uttered aloud than it had been solely in her head. “I want to think otherwise,” she explained, trying to soften the blow. “But I’m worried that…. I need that push.”
“Okay.” All in all, he seemed to be taking the request well. He seemed to be taking all of this well. Maybe that made sense, she thought; he was on the cusp of getting what he wanted, as long as he didn’t upset her.
At least that was what she believed until he said, “You have until my birthday.”
Then she thought he was picking the first conceivable date available to force her into something she wasn’t ready for. As though he were only paying lip service to her insecurities, he was determined to make this happen as quickly as he could - that was what it felt like to her.
Frustrated she muttered, “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“You said you needed a push.”
“Yeah, a push. Not a -”
“That’s not how this works,” he interrupted. “You want my help, you don’t get to choose the terms. And if this is really supposed to happen, the longer you take, the harder this is going to be for everyone.”
She understood that. Her hesitation created friction between them and, though he would probably never say it, doubt in him. The more time she needed, the worse it would be for them. And that was to say nothing of how it would affect Rachel. It was hard for Cuddy to admit, but if she thought about it from Rachel’s perspective, she thought her reluctance had made or would make her daughter all the more resistant to House’s affections. If Cuddy were suspicious of House’s behavior, then of course, that would alter how Rachel felt.
But that didn’t mean Cuddy could just force her way to acceptance within a matter of months.
Continue on to the rest of the chapter