Gift of Screws, Chapter 25.5 - END
Title: Gift of Screws, Chapter Twenty Five, Part Five
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), Chapter 25 (Part 4)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
“I know that,” she told him. “It’s just -”
“Soon? I don’t think so. If you know that I mean what I said about Rachel - and clearly you do - then all you have to do is let me be involved in her life. And since that’s not exactly a brand new concept for us, it’s really just a matter of degree.”
She shifted in his arms. Doing her best to roll over onto her back, she was able to eye him with greater ease. “Maybe. But you’re acting like the number of degrees is small when -”
“Isn’t it? The fact is I’ve been in Rachel’s life for years now. Whether we planned it or not, I’ve taken on that role in her life.”
He was carefully avoiding saying the word, father. Whether he was doing that because she didn’t want to hear him say it or because he couldn’t, she didn’t know.
“I’m not asking to adopt her. I’m not -”
“No, I’d just be changing my will,” she retorted, not thinking there was much of a difference.
“I want the will. Don’t get me wrong. I want it. But that is the… inevitable result of something much smaller.” Immediately he conceded, “Doesn’t seem like it, but you just have to make a little room for me.”
“And if I can’t do that in less than three months?”
Although she knew she would have to try to meet that impossible deadline, she wanted to be aware of the consequences when she didn’t make it. She forced herself to think when, not if. He might have been doing his best to minimize the task at hand, an act of kindness on his part to be sure. But Cuddy wouldn’t allow herself to mentally do the same. She couldn’t afford to do so, which was why she needed to know what she would face if she failed.
In all honesty, she expected a grim answer to her question.
Instead though he remained calm. “Then we’ll have a version of this conversation - except then I’ll be drunk.”
“And what a happy birthday that will be.”
“You don’t let me lick icing off your ass, so technically by default, all my birthdays are unhappy ones.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “You’re ridiculous.”
“So will you?” he asked undeterred.
“Will I what?”
“Let me lick icing off -”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She shot him a dirty look. “This may surprise you, but I don’t get off on you drooling all over my -”
“That’s what you say, but then you wear those skirts and -”
“Who says I do that for you? Or anyone for that matter?”
“Because I know you. But if you’d prefer something else, I could always lick the frosting off your pussy,” he offered.
“If you think I’m going to give myself a yeast infection for a few minutes of fun -”
“Nipples?” he asked almost desperately.
“Okay,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. Under normal circumstances, she might have been content with the proposed act, turned on even; there was absolutely nothing wrong with House’s tongue on - well, just about any part of her body. But right now, it just felt wrong to be having this conversation now.
Were they really discussing this? That was what she asked herself then. Were they really talking about it now, when they’d been fighting about Rachel, about their future?
“So then it won’t be a completely unhappy birthday for me.”
“Why are we talking about this?”
He didn’t offer her an answer. He just said somberly, “We can go back to the other thing.”
“We need to.”
“Then by all means, do that. Although there’s not really much left to discuss.”
“It’s three months - not even.”
He scratched his beard in contemplation. “You want more time.”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll have it, after -”
“No,” she gritted out with frustration. “That’s not enough time, not even close. And there’s no way that you don’t realize that.”
“You think so?”
He was toying with her was her initial impression; he was tormenting her, needling her by being as uncooperative as he knew how to be. In and of itself, that was hardly new behavior. Making things harder for her was, for better or worse, one of his favorite activities. He liked getting under her skin, enjoyed teasing her. Usually, as frustrated as it could make her, she had fun with that dynamic too. She gave as good as she got, and on some days, their back and forth was the most bearable part of her life. But there was another side to that behavior, a darker aspect. Sometimes, when he was mad, he would do the exact same things - tease her in an attempt to hurt her. And right now his intentional ignorance was obvious, but the reason for it was not.
Was he trying to guide their relationship back to normal? Or was he purposely trying to make this harder for her?
Without answers, she found herself infuriated - just as he probably wanted.
“Why are you making this so difficult?” she asked, sitting up. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Do I?”
“Stop. Just stop it.” She pulled away from him but only a little. Retreating completely would be melodramatic, and he would surely accuse her of that should she behave that way. She stayed close to avoid any more of his taunting. “I’m tired, and I’m in no mood to play games. If you’re going to keep behaving this way, I’m going to bed.”
“Don’t do that.” He reached over and stroked her cheek. With only a modicum of sarcasm, he explained, “I don’t sleep well when you’re pissed at me, which means I’ll be up all night - and bored, which means I’ll be tempted to wake you and then you’ll be up all night, so -”
“Then act like an adult.”
He wanted to point out that he hadn’t been the one who’d gone to a lawyer and created papers to dangle in front of him as bait. He wanted to ask who had been the one to act out on that idiotic, childish plan - and then relish in the shame she would surely feel. But doing that would in fact turn him into the immature man she was accusing him of being. By virtue of his own behavior, he would make her right. And he wasn't willing to cede the moral high ground yet.
"I am," he said calmly.
"Then you're not listening to -”
"No, I am."
"Then why are you so insistent on ignoring me when I say that I'm going to need more than three months?" she asked with accusation in her voice. "Why won't you budge on this?"
It was simple. "Because I'm not the one who did that," he told her, pointing to the paperwork lying on the floor. He didn't mean to sound as disgusted as he did, but there was no helping it, he supposed. Although he was willing to forgive her for it, he didn't think he would ever look upon the action with anything less than absolute revulsion. It just wasn't possible.
Cuddy, however, seemed to have trouble seeing that difference. "So you haven't forgiven me." She was hesitant, quiet, filled with remorse that stopped him from calling her an idiot.
"I do," he said with a sigh.
“No. You just don’t want to fight anymore. You’re still mad.”
“I’m really not,” he insisted gently. “I’m not mad, not really. But forgive me if I don't think your judgment is very good when it comes to this topic."
She was visibly surprised. "You think... what, I'm lying or... wrong when I say that I need more time?"
"Here's what's going to happen if I give you six months, a year, whatever." He aimed to be as academic about it as possible, to reason through the argument. He felt that he would have better success that way. By avoiding being (and he hated to put it this way) emotional, he increased the chances of her actually believing what he had to say. "There are two things. One, at some point in the next couple of days, you're going to be so fed up with being wrong that you're going to turn this around in your head and blame me."
"That's -"
"Insane? A little bit, yeah. But you're not used to being wrong, especially when it comes to Rachel, and you're going to get mad that I pushed things before you were comfortable with me doing that. So... yeah, at some point, you're going to look for some reason to blame this on me. It's just a fact," he insisted in a way that he hoped didn't come across as being too arrogant. "And the way you're going to do that is pick up on some thing you don't like about me, and then you're going to let that fester. 'I didn't trust House then because he likes to make sex jokes in front of Rachel' - something along those lines."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure I already said that I don't like you doing that in front of her."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. This time though instead of complaining, you'll just keep it to yourself. Let it grow into something bigger, and if I give you enough time to think it through, when we get to that point where you reconsider my place in Rachel's life, you're going to use it as a reason to say no. Again."
"Pretending that that's true -"
"Oh, it is."
"Whatever." It wasn't an agreement, but it was as close as he was going to get, he knew. "What makes you think that's not going to happen in three months?"
"Because in three months, I have a better chance of talking you out of it." He looked down at that sad truth. The fact was, he was going to have to convince her again. She would no longer doubt that this was what he wanted, but she would absolutely need proof that he would be good for her daughter. And House was more than willing to meet that challenge, given what was at stake; he would do his best to give them all the proof they needed, to make it clear that this was not a fleeting whim he'd acted on to secure his position in Cuddy's life.
He just wished he didn't have to.
But there was no avoiding it, he told himself firmly. And if there was no way out of it, then the only thing he could do now was move forward.
Turning back to her, he explained, "Three months, your insanity will define the problem, but you won't have so much time to come up with thousands of grievances I'll have to address." She glared at him, clearly offended by his words, and he felt that she probably had a right to be; he dialed the rhetoric back. "I don't blame you for that. Just saying, the longer we give ourselves time to talk ourselves out of it, the more likely it is that we will."
She leaned back on the couch. He was right. His birthday seemed so close, but there was plenty of time for her to have doubts, to act on those doubts. That also meant that there would be many opportunities for House to change his mind. If - well, more than likely, when they had a big fight some time between now and then, she would distrust his abilities and so would he. Issues would surely occur in that short time period, and if they weren't careful, those things could completely derail the step they were trying hard to take. If they waited a few years... if he gave her more time to get used to the idea, who knew what would happen?
"Second," he continued. "We give ourselves more time, then we're going to take our time. And this is just a guess on my part, but I'm thinking that the last thing we need right now is to make this change as slowly as possible. If we're going to do this, then it needs to happen. For Rachel's sake."
No doubt he had expected her to fight this point as well. But to be honest, she was too surprised to put up much of a disagreement. Her eyes widening with shock, she couldn't help but say, "I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that. 'For Rachel's sake.'"
"Things change."
She shook her head with disbelief - not in what he was saying but in the fact that he was the one making the argument that change happened. He said “things,” but the implication was that people changed; he had changed.
Looking at him though, she could see that he had done that. He had changed. And then came the empty feeling of loneliness, the cool knowledge that he had stopped playing games while she apparently had not. He had embraced the happiness, the family, he wanted. He would have signed those papers today if she’d let him. He had moved on from where they’d started, and she was alone in her distrust.
Or not.
He pulled her close again, not giving her the choice to move away as his face buried in her shoulder and an arm wrapped around her waist.
"You'll get there."
There was no doubt in his words, comfort found only in his assuredness.
"And if I don't know how?"
He placed a kiss on her shoulder. "You do."
"Do I?" Two days ago she would have firmly believed that she did, that if things weren't progressing as they should have, it was House's fault. Now she was no longer sure.
"Of course," he said, pulling away from her once more. "Let's practice." She thought he was kidding at first; he could see the soft smile and the belief that this was a joke in her eyes. But it wasn't. "I'm going to tell you something, and you're not going to reject it off hand." Before she could object, he said, "I think Rachel needs a new school."
She was obviously surprised by the sudden change in conversation. "What?"
"If we're going to get to a place where you trust me with Rachel, you're going to have to start letting me help you make the important decisions involving her."
"And you think she needs to go to a different school and that right now is the time to have that conversation?"
He shot her an unhappy look. "You do realize that those kids who made fun of her go to her school, yeah?” It was clear that she hadn’t by the expression on her face. But he wrote that off as exhaustion, not stupidity on her part. “You can’t let her grow up with those idiots.”
He was thankful she didn’t respond right away. The way the muscles in her jaw clenched made it obvious that she wanted to outright reject what he was saying. That she wasn’t was promising.
“And… what guarantee is there that a new school would make things better?” she asked after a moment. “Let’s say I pull her out, put her some place else. There’s no telling that things will be any different. Those kids might be just as mean, and what do we have to show for it? She’s in a new school, with no friends… a year behind because she’s failing now and no one will let her continue as -”
“Would that be so bad?” Realizing the question was vague, he added, “Not the no friends part. But like you said, she’s failing. Maybe it’s not a bad thing if she has to repeat.”
He wasn’t stupid enough to say that Rachel clearly needed the extra time. But Cuddy heard the words anyway.
“She’s not dumb,” she nearly yelled.
“No. She just has the misfortune of you rushing her through -”
“You’re talking about the cutoff date.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she couldn’t believe he was going back to that. He’d opposed it when the issue had first come up. But when she’d made it clear that she wouldn’t listen to him, he had dropped the matter. She thought now that she should have known better.
He thought he was right. And when he believed himself to be right, he never let it go. There might have been a moment where he seemed okay with the incorrect party winning - but that never lasted.
As he was proving now.
“Those kids make fun of her, because they know she’s not supposed to be there.”
“They do not,” Cuddy said with a scoff. “That date was arbitrary, and the school -”
“They let you do that, because you have money. And because when you tried to convince them that putting Rachel into a classroom she was obviously too young to be in, you were more than likely wearing that push bra -”
“I was not.”
“Which can make rational thinking awfully difficult. I should know.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Maybe not,” he conceded easily. “But that’s beside the point.” She gave him a dirty look that hinted at all of the things she would do to him if he didn’t get to the point soon. “Either way, you got her in that classroom before she was supposed to be there - and it shows. You tried this, but it hasn’t worked. She’s not ready for the material and -”
“I told you: she’s not stupid. I know you assume anyone who is not you is a complete -”
“No, she’s not. But she’s also not you,” he said in a firm voice.
She didn’t understand what he meant. “What is that -”
“Your mother pushed you your entire life.” Instantly Cuddy cringed; if he was trying to prove his point, comparing her to her mother was absolutely the worst way to go about it. But she didn’t have time to object before he added, “She pressured you, made you work harder than you would have otherwise, and you... did well under those circumstances. Which," he added. "Is why I know that the less time you have to sit with this decision about Rachel, the better chance I have. You thrive with that stress."
"You're oversimplifying," she said, feeling as though she had done everything but thrive under the stress of this weekend.
"A little, sure.”
“And I am not my mother.”
“No. I didn’t mean that. It’s just - my point is: she's not like that at all. She does not do well when you push her. She can't even put her pants on if you let on that she needs to hurry," he accused in a way that suggested to her that something along those lines had happened today. But if it had, he wasn't complaining now, as he didn't elaborate any further. He just said, "She's not a moron. She's just not ready. And by forcing her, you're putting her in a classroom with a bunch of jackasses who are going to assume that she is stupid because she isn't prepared to learn. And by putting her through that, you're turning school into a place she will never want to go to."
"That's... ridiculous."
She didn't really believe that. If she'd pushed Rachel before she was prepared, then the rest of his argument was simply logical. Cuddy wasn't sure he was right that her daughter wasn't ready for school, but there was enough doubt in her mind that the denial she uttered was hardly felt internally. If she spoke at all, it was simply to stop him from continuing. Exhausted she thought he had made his point clear; further discussion on his part would seem as though he were belaboring on the topic, attacking her over it. And if she felt attacked, then they would descend into another fight. She had denied to avoid any further disagreement.
They had done that enough already.
He must have understood how she felt, because immediately he stopped. Instead of trying to convince her further, he said, “Maybe it is.” It was obvious he didn’t believe that, but he was saying it to avoid angering her. “Just… think about it.”
“That’s it.” She was doubtful that that was all, but he nodded his head. “You’re going to compare me to my mother -”
“I wasn’t trying to do that.”
“And say that I should have Rachel switch schools and repeat grades and then that’s it? You’re done?”
“Yeah.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “I said I wanted to be a part of her life, and I do. Which means I get to have a say - at least eventually, so like I said: this is practice.”
He was being awfully calm, suspiciously so. Even if he meant what he was saying, she doubted he would remain as understanding and patient when she didn’t take his advice.
“And if I don’t do what you want?” she asked.
“Then you don’t.”
“And you’re not going to be mad?” The doubt couldn’t have been more obvious. “You won’t accuse me of purposely disregarding your suggestions.”
“I’ll make that accusation if you do. If you actually consider what I’m saying, that will be obvious, because when you do whatever the hell it is that you decide to do, you’ll have a reason behind it.”
She didn’t think it would be that painless. But frankly, if he wanted to be delusional, for now, she would let him. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to get mad now about it; she didn’t believe he would be nearly as understanding as he thought, but all she could now was wait and see what would happen, she guessed.
“Fine. Are we done?” she asked, standing up. She didn’t mean to cut things off so abruptly, but she knew that if she stayed in the conversation for much longer, all wishes to be patient would be meaningless.
But House wasn’t quick to let her go. Reaching for her hand, he didn’t let her get very far. “Just think about it.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t ask if she meant it, but the look in his eyes suggested that he was wondering.
“I said okay.”
“All right.” He must have realized that the words sounded dismissive, because he hastily added, “I mean that. I believe you.”
“Okay.”
She thought he would let her go. But what he did was simply change the subject.
“How do you feel?” he asked suddenly.
In her opinion, the answer to that question was obvious. “I’m tired, House. I want to go to bed.”
“I know. But if you weren’t feeling well, I was going to offer to bring you some tea or ginger ale or whatever you want.”
“Oh.”
It was the last thing she expected after the last twenty-four hours. All night he had been trying so hard to undo some of the cruel words he had said the previous evening; he’d made the effort to be kind, but somehow she assumed that the second the conversation about Rachel was over, he would cease being nice. He wouldn’t be mean, but the sales pitch would be done with; things would go back to the way they usually were. Apparently, he had other plans.
And right now, she was okay with going along with it. She had no desire to question or suspect. If he wanted to keep the act going, she would let him.
Her free hand rubbing the back of her neck, she said, “Okay. I guess I could drink some tea.”
“The ginger kind?” he asked, his nose scrunched up in mild disgust.
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” he said instantly. “I’ll make it. You go lie down.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
She didn’t wait around for him to change his mind. If he wanted to take care of her, by all means he could.
But in walking away from him, she found herself fixated on their conversation. Letting him become Rachel’s potential legal guardian was a terrifying prospect, one that made her anxious with the comprehension of its inevitability. House had made it clear that it was what he wanted; of that Cuddy had no doubt. And as she walked down the hallway towards their bedroom, she understood that he would get what he wanted. Eventually, as he often did, he would have his way. Her indecision was very real, but at some point, she would be unable to deny him what he wanted, what was best for all of them.
The fact that it was what was best for them was the truly frightening part of it all. Making him a permanent part of her family was the right thing to do, not because he wanted it, but because they would benefit from him having that title. At the moment that was hard to accept, but she wouldn’t deny it.
She couldn’t pretend like it wasn't happening or wasn't going to happen. That would just make it harder in the end to accept the inevitable.
But knowing that, she still found herself wary of taking steps in that direction. House had called it practice, as though anything they did right now was merely abstract and would have no impact on their lives. Changing Rachel's school, however, holding her back a grade or at least allowing the education system to do it... that seemed as real as it got. And Cuddy didn't know if it was that thought or the act of brushing her teeth that did it, but it was at that moment, toothbrush in hand, that the nausea hit her fully.
She immediately spit into the sink. The taste of mint was too strong on her taste buds, and she feared what would happen if she kept at this basic task. Quickly she rinsed out her mouth. Palm scooping water from the tap, she tried to calm herself down. She wouldn't get sick; she wouldn't have to make any important decisions now.
But that was a lie.
Admittedly she managed to straighten back up without seeing her dinner once more. She was able to dry her face off with only the slightest feeling of sickness roiling through her. And she thought that if she could just get in bed, she would be okay on that front. The situation with Rachel on the other hand...
That wasn't going to go away any time soon.
Cuddy again told herself she didn't need to reach any conclusions tonight. But again, she knew that was a lie. House had been right when he'd said that the sooner they made a decision, the easier it would be for all of them. That was especially true in this situation; the sooner a choice was made, the more time Cuddy would have to comfort her daughter. After all, if Rachel was going to spend the rest of her school days with the same children who had taunted her, that would take some smoothing over.
Or a lot of it.
Crawling into bed, Cuddy wondered then if perhaps House was right. Maybe a new school was optimal in this instance. Repeating a year was, of course, not what she wanted for her child, but perhaps that was an acceptable price to pay to get Rachel out of the classroom she was in. Surely, if the school stated that Rachel hadn't learned enough to progress, it would be nice to have some good news. Since being held back seemed likely no matter what, the promise of new friends might have been just the thing Rachel needed to be okay with that. Perhaps that would be the thing that kept Rachel from being upset at all.
But then... Cuddy knew that, with just a little more prodding, her daughter could easily go forward with her education. House said he wasn't calling her stupid, but the fact was he had no idea what an average child was capable of; having never been one himself, having never been interested in average in any way, he had no concept for it. He was willing to see her in elementary school until he died, because he had no understanding of what was normal for a five year old. Cuddy understood though, and she knew that, regardless of any comparisons he wanted to make to her mother, Rachel was smart enough to keep going. And five minutes with the principal, five minutes of explanations about teachers giving peanut butter to the wrong students and children being cruel, would be all that it took to explain Rachel's academic performance. House would no doubt write off any success as the result of underwear worn, but Cuddy knew that victory would have nothing to do with that. It just really was easy to believe that a five year old couldn't thrive under those conditions. And punishing Rachel for it seemed wrong. It felt drastic, to let Rachel’s schooling suffer because of some idiots who didn’t know how to be kind to her.
Just as her stomach flip-flopped, so did her mind. If Rachel had been distracted by those things - enough that her grades had fallen that badly - how much really had she learned? From the homework they did together, Cuddy could tell that Rachel… struggled a little. All this time, Cuddy had assumed that it was normal difficulties; Rachel didn’t want to do homework, or she didn’t like doing it with her mother breathing down her shoulder. But maybe that wasn’t the case.
Maybe… an extra year was what she needed.
Or perhaps instead of fighting with the current school, Cuddy could make better use of her time by convincing a new school to test her daughter. A placement test would offer them all the answers they needed, and in that case, no matter what happened, Rachel wouldn’t be stuck with the children who had made her feel so bad.
Of course, it bothered Cuddy to think that they would be pulling her out of school because of what other people had said. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said that there would always be someone out there who wasn’t happy with what you did in life. And there was the very real concern now that Rachel would take from this that she could run whenever things got difficult.
But… what would it teach Rachel if Cuddy, knowing all she knew about Rachel’s peers, did nothing?
What would that say?
She would have sighed in defeat then, if she weren’t so sure that exhaling with any intention would make her sick to her stomach. As much as she hated being forced to prove House right, she didn’t have any other choice here. Rachel needed to be elsewhere, and Cuddy couldn’t ignore that on the hunch that her daughter would turn out fine, regardless of what those children said or did. She wouldn’t ignore it. It just… would have been much easier to handle if he hadn’t been the one to suggest it.
She could deal with it if he responded with even the slightest hint of grace. Since it was House however, she knew she should expect the exact opposite from him.
She was too busy imagining the gloating when she felt his warm hand on her forehead. The touch unexpected, it scared her, and she jumped in surprise.
“Just me,” he said reassuringly, placing the mug of hot tea down on the nightstand next to her. “Your tea’s ready.” She was too busy swallowing back bile to respond. “Feel sick?”
“Yeah.”
“The pill or the whole mentioning of your mother -”
“The pill,” she groaned. “Although….”
As her voice trailed off, he leaned down and kissed her temple. He wasn’t sure if that would be enough to soothe her noticeable agitation, but it was worth a shot. “I’m sorry,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Drink your tea. You’ll feel better.”
She stayed where she was.
That meant she really didn’t feel well. Naturally, he backed away; he’d spent enough of his day wiping up body fluids from a Cuddy. He had no interest in capping the day off with vomit on him.
“I don’t know why you insist on not taking your birth control,” he teased as he moved away from her. Changing into his pajamas, he said patronizingly, “You always get sick in the end.”
“Well, from now on, I promise not to throw my pills into the toilet.”
“That’s my girl.”
He heard the gentle scrape of the mug on the nightstand at that moment. As he entered the bathroom, he let out a sigh of relief; if she was moving, at least there was a slight chance he wouldn’t be woken in the middle of the night by the sounds of her retching.
He wouldn’t deny that it sounded selfish. Or even that it was selfish, he mentally corrected as he picked up his toothbrush. He just didn’t care. After the day he had, he deserved a night of sleep; he needed it. If Cuddy got sick, he would be expected to take care of her. If he did, he would be unable to move in the morning, which would be a problem given that he assumed he would be watching Rachel tomorrow as well. If he left Cuddy to puke by herself, she would get pissed that he hadn’t held her hair or whatever. That would be the issue she fixated on, the reason she didn’t trust him with Rachel.
Of all the things she could complain about, he thought tiredly. But that was the price he’d have to pay to get what he wanted, right? He’d explicitly stated how things had to go, and now he had no choice but to ride out the consequences.
There was no way he could back out now.
He couldn’t even let on that he was willing to consider changing his mind. The sheer size of the task ahead of him gave him pause, made him almost willing to call the whole thing off. He didn’t regret saying what he had. It just… scared him to have his needs out there in the open with no real guarantee that she would ever meet them. And that made it tempting to swallow all of the things he said, write them off as a lie, and deal with her anger over that. But when all was said and done, as scary as it was, he wanted to see this through.
He had to.
And that meant he would never let, could never let any doubt show.
He wouldn’t consider what happened if (when) he failed. He would just do his best to make it seem like he was absolutely convinced that this was the right thing to do. And the best way to keep his game face on was to limit the amount of grief she gave him (and vice versa). If she got sick and he didn’t help, she would mad. If she got sick and he helped, he would be mad. Either way if she didn’t sleep through the nausea, they were screwed.
When he went back into the bedroom, he thought he might have gotten lucky. She was setting the mug of tea onto the nightstand again; she hadn’t puked, yet, which he felt was a good sign.
“Feel better?” he asked, as he gingerly tried to get into bed without jostling her too much.
“Fine.”
The way she said it, she sounded angry. Her attitude made no sense, considering he was doing his best to be nice to her. It made no sense at all, given that kindness was something she had hardly earned with her behavior. He’d forgiven, as he was in the process of getting what he wanted, and she was deciding to act like a bitch in return?
Offended, he stuck his tongue out at her, though she had her back to him and couldn’t see it.
She could, however, hear him say sarcastically, “Oh I’m sorry. Was I being too -”
“No, I mean - fine, I’ll look into other schools.”
He blinked in surprised, looked over at her as though she were nuts. “Seriously?”
“Don’t gloat,” she muttered into her pillow.
“I wasn’t. I’m just surprised.” Inwardly he would admit that there was a twinge of pleasure, knowing that she had thought about it and come to the same conclusion that he had. But he wasn’t going to ruin the moment by saying any of that out loud.
“I’m not guaranteeing anything,” she warned, probably because she sensed his happiness. “If it makes more sense for her to stay where she is, just switch classrooms or -”
“So those kids can make fun of her at recess? You think that’s a good idea?”
She craned her head around so she could glare at him. “I’m only saying that I’m leaving my options open for now. At least until I’ve had a chance to research everything.”
“Okay.”
“Which I will do in all of my free time.”
The bite in the words somehow seemed meant for him. On any other day, he might have been tempted to take the bait. Tonight he would let it slide, offering instead, “I can help if you -”
“Since I don’t need to know which teachers at each school make the best prospect to have a threesome with -”
“That information is always useful.”
She smiled before looking away. “It’s never going to happen.”
“Really?” Carefully he eased along the mattress so he could spoon against her. Lips on the back of her neck, he whispered, “But what if -”
“Never going to happen.”
“You’re mean.”
She grinned. “I know.”
“You going to make it up to me somehow?”
“You want me to reward you with something because I’ve told you for years now that you’ll never have a threesome with me?”
He nodded his head, which prompted her to shake hers.
“You’re delusional.”
His response was to nip lightly at her skin with his teeth. “Cruel woman.” But he got over the heartbreak quickly. “Fine. What if I baby sit for -“
“Oh no,” she interrupted smugly. “If you really want to play a part in her life -”
“I do,” he said with all seriousness.
“Then it’s no longer baby sitting, is it? You’re just… being her father then, aren’t you?”
She stumbled over the words, but in saying them, she found herself slightly less uncomfortable with the idea. It still scared her, and there remained a twinge of selfishness, a need to hold Rachel close and share her with nobody else. But those feelings were tempered with comprehension.
It was exactly as Cuddy had said. If he wanted to take on that role in her daughter’s life, then he could no longer demand reward for participation. He would simply be expected to do his share. There would be no bargaining, no bets, no favors. They would, she knew, find new ways to incorporate their sex life into unrelated activities and issues. That was one thing they seemed to be unusually gifted at, and she had no doubt that that behavior would continue. She hoped it did.
But taking care of Rachel was now off limits. And if the prospect of seeing House’s face when he realized that didn’t make the situation easier to accept, Cuddy wasn’t sure anything would.
Stunned into silence House didn’t respond, making her smile.
“Good night, House.”
Finally he said, “Why is it that that sounds like a threat?”
She patted the arm he had wrapped around her. She still wasn’t ready for any of this; she couldn’t say that she no longer had doubts. She did. But at least now there was something to look forward to, something she could cling to - even if it was something as small as having more control over House.
He would never see it that way, but it was true; he’d just cut himself off at the knees. He’d limited the amount of bargaining chips he had in their day-to-day lives. And it might not have been big, but she would absolutely relish that tiny victory. God, she couldn’t wait to see him squirm.
Of course, she wouldn’t deny his ingenuity. He would find new ways to manipulate, new avenues of control. But there could be fun in that. She chose to believe that anyway.
“Good night,” she repeated, thinking for the first time that things might not be as bad as she initially believed.
The End
I just want to thank everyone for taking the time to read and review and stick with this project of mine for the last couple of years. The journey has not been a quick one or even an easy one, but I hope that you all have enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it. I would also love it if you took the time to read and review just one last time for me. I’ve received various requests for prequels, sequels, etc, and I’m definitely open to that. So if you have an opinion on the matter, also feel free to let me know. Thank you so much. You will never know how appreciative I truly am.
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), Chapter 25 (Part 4)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
“I know that,” she told him. “It’s just -”
“Soon? I don’t think so. If you know that I mean what I said about Rachel - and clearly you do - then all you have to do is let me be involved in her life. And since that’s not exactly a brand new concept for us, it’s really just a matter of degree.”
She shifted in his arms. Doing her best to roll over onto her back, she was able to eye him with greater ease. “Maybe. But you’re acting like the number of degrees is small when -”
“Isn’t it? The fact is I’ve been in Rachel’s life for years now. Whether we planned it or not, I’ve taken on that role in her life.”
He was carefully avoiding saying the word, father. Whether he was doing that because she didn’t want to hear him say it or because he couldn’t, she didn’t know.
“I’m not asking to adopt her. I’m not -”
“No, I’d just be changing my will,” she retorted, not thinking there was much of a difference.
“I want the will. Don’t get me wrong. I want it. But that is the… inevitable result of something much smaller.” Immediately he conceded, “Doesn’t seem like it, but you just have to make a little room for me.”
“And if I can’t do that in less than three months?”
Although she knew she would have to try to meet that impossible deadline, she wanted to be aware of the consequences when she didn’t make it. She forced herself to think when, not if. He might have been doing his best to minimize the task at hand, an act of kindness on his part to be sure. But Cuddy wouldn’t allow herself to mentally do the same. She couldn’t afford to do so, which was why she needed to know what she would face if she failed.
In all honesty, she expected a grim answer to her question.
Instead though he remained calm. “Then we’ll have a version of this conversation - except then I’ll be drunk.”
“And what a happy birthday that will be.”
“You don’t let me lick icing off your ass, so technically by default, all my birthdays are unhappy ones.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “You’re ridiculous.”
“So will you?” he asked undeterred.
“Will I what?”
“Let me lick icing off -”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She shot him a dirty look. “This may surprise you, but I don’t get off on you drooling all over my -”
“That’s what you say, but then you wear those skirts and -”
“Who says I do that for you? Or anyone for that matter?”
“Because I know you. But if you’d prefer something else, I could always lick the frosting off your pussy,” he offered.
“If you think I’m going to give myself a yeast infection for a few minutes of fun -”
“Nipples?” he asked almost desperately.
“Okay,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. Under normal circumstances, she might have been content with the proposed act, turned on even; there was absolutely nothing wrong with House’s tongue on - well, just about any part of her body. But right now, it just felt wrong to be having this conversation now.
Were they really discussing this? That was what she asked herself then. Were they really talking about it now, when they’d been fighting about Rachel, about their future?
“So then it won’t be a completely unhappy birthday for me.”
“Why are we talking about this?”
He didn’t offer her an answer. He just said somberly, “We can go back to the other thing.”
“We need to.”
“Then by all means, do that. Although there’s not really much left to discuss.”
“It’s three months - not even.”
He scratched his beard in contemplation. “You want more time.”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll have it, after -”
“No,” she gritted out with frustration. “That’s not enough time, not even close. And there’s no way that you don’t realize that.”
“You think so?”
He was toying with her was her initial impression; he was tormenting her, needling her by being as uncooperative as he knew how to be. In and of itself, that was hardly new behavior. Making things harder for her was, for better or worse, one of his favorite activities. He liked getting under her skin, enjoyed teasing her. Usually, as frustrated as it could make her, she had fun with that dynamic too. She gave as good as she got, and on some days, their back and forth was the most bearable part of her life. But there was another side to that behavior, a darker aspect. Sometimes, when he was mad, he would do the exact same things - tease her in an attempt to hurt her. And right now his intentional ignorance was obvious, but the reason for it was not.
Was he trying to guide their relationship back to normal? Or was he purposely trying to make this harder for her?
Without answers, she found herself infuriated - just as he probably wanted.
“Why are you making this so difficult?” she asked, sitting up. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Do I?”
“Stop. Just stop it.” She pulled away from him but only a little. Retreating completely would be melodramatic, and he would surely accuse her of that should she behave that way. She stayed close to avoid any more of his taunting. “I’m tired, and I’m in no mood to play games. If you’re going to keep behaving this way, I’m going to bed.”
“Don’t do that.” He reached over and stroked her cheek. With only a modicum of sarcasm, he explained, “I don’t sleep well when you’re pissed at me, which means I’ll be up all night - and bored, which means I’ll be tempted to wake you and then you’ll be up all night, so -”
“Then act like an adult.”
He wanted to point out that he hadn’t been the one who’d gone to a lawyer and created papers to dangle in front of him as bait. He wanted to ask who had been the one to act out on that idiotic, childish plan - and then relish in the shame she would surely feel. But doing that would in fact turn him into the immature man she was accusing him of being. By virtue of his own behavior, he would make her right. And he wasn't willing to cede the moral high ground yet.
"I am," he said calmly.
"Then you're not listening to -”
"No, I am."
"Then why are you so insistent on ignoring me when I say that I'm going to need more than three months?" she asked with accusation in her voice. "Why won't you budge on this?"
It was simple. "Because I'm not the one who did that," he told her, pointing to the paperwork lying on the floor. He didn't mean to sound as disgusted as he did, but there was no helping it, he supposed. Although he was willing to forgive her for it, he didn't think he would ever look upon the action with anything less than absolute revulsion. It just wasn't possible.
Cuddy, however, seemed to have trouble seeing that difference. "So you haven't forgiven me." She was hesitant, quiet, filled with remorse that stopped him from calling her an idiot.
"I do," he said with a sigh.
“No. You just don’t want to fight anymore. You’re still mad.”
“I’m really not,” he insisted gently. “I’m not mad, not really. But forgive me if I don't think your judgment is very good when it comes to this topic."
She was visibly surprised. "You think... what, I'm lying or... wrong when I say that I need more time?"
"Here's what's going to happen if I give you six months, a year, whatever." He aimed to be as academic about it as possible, to reason through the argument. He felt that he would have better success that way. By avoiding being (and he hated to put it this way) emotional, he increased the chances of her actually believing what he had to say. "There are two things. One, at some point in the next couple of days, you're going to be so fed up with being wrong that you're going to turn this around in your head and blame me."
"That's -"
"Insane? A little bit, yeah. But you're not used to being wrong, especially when it comes to Rachel, and you're going to get mad that I pushed things before you were comfortable with me doing that. So... yeah, at some point, you're going to look for some reason to blame this on me. It's just a fact," he insisted in a way that he hoped didn't come across as being too arrogant. "And the way you're going to do that is pick up on some thing you don't like about me, and then you're going to let that fester. 'I didn't trust House then because he likes to make sex jokes in front of Rachel' - something along those lines."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure I already said that I don't like you doing that in front of her."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. This time though instead of complaining, you'll just keep it to yourself. Let it grow into something bigger, and if I give you enough time to think it through, when we get to that point where you reconsider my place in Rachel's life, you're going to use it as a reason to say no. Again."
"Pretending that that's true -"
"Oh, it is."
"Whatever." It wasn't an agreement, but it was as close as he was going to get, he knew. "What makes you think that's not going to happen in three months?"
"Because in three months, I have a better chance of talking you out of it." He looked down at that sad truth. The fact was, he was going to have to convince her again. She would no longer doubt that this was what he wanted, but she would absolutely need proof that he would be good for her daughter. And House was more than willing to meet that challenge, given what was at stake; he would do his best to give them all the proof they needed, to make it clear that this was not a fleeting whim he'd acted on to secure his position in Cuddy's life.
He just wished he didn't have to.
But there was no avoiding it, he told himself firmly. And if there was no way out of it, then the only thing he could do now was move forward.
Turning back to her, he explained, "Three months, your insanity will define the problem, but you won't have so much time to come up with thousands of grievances I'll have to address." She glared at him, clearly offended by his words, and he felt that she probably had a right to be; he dialed the rhetoric back. "I don't blame you for that. Just saying, the longer we give ourselves time to talk ourselves out of it, the more likely it is that we will."
She leaned back on the couch. He was right. His birthday seemed so close, but there was plenty of time for her to have doubts, to act on those doubts. That also meant that there would be many opportunities for House to change his mind. If - well, more than likely, when they had a big fight some time between now and then, she would distrust his abilities and so would he. Issues would surely occur in that short time period, and if they weren't careful, those things could completely derail the step they were trying hard to take. If they waited a few years... if he gave her more time to get used to the idea, who knew what would happen?
"Second," he continued. "We give ourselves more time, then we're going to take our time. And this is just a guess on my part, but I'm thinking that the last thing we need right now is to make this change as slowly as possible. If we're going to do this, then it needs to happen. For Rachel's sake."
No doubt he had expected her to fight this point as well. But to be honest, she was too surprised to put up much of a disagreement. Her eyes widening with shock, she couldn't help but say, "I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that. 'For Rachel's sake.'"
"Things change."
She shook her head with disbelief - not in what he was saying but in the fact that he was the one making the argument that change happened. He said “things,” but the implication was that people changed; he had changed.
Looking at him though, she could see that he had done that. He had changed. And then came the empty feeling of loneliness, the cool knowledge that he had stopped playing games while she apparently had not. He had embraced the happiness, the family, he wanted. He would have signed those papers today if she’d let him. He had moved on from where they’d started, and she was alone in her distrust.
Or not.
He pulled her close again, not giving her the choice to move away as his face buried in her shoulder and an arm wrapped around her waist.
"You'll get there."
There was no doubt in his words, comfort found only in his assuredness.
"And if I don't know how?"
He placed a kiss on her shoulder. "You do."
"Do I?" Two days ago she would have firmly believed that she did, that if things weren't progressing as they should have, it was House's fault. Now she was no longer sure.
"Of course," he said, pulling away from her once more. "Let's practice." She thought he was kidding at first; he could see the soft smile and the belief that this was a joke in her eyes. But it wasn't. "I'm going to tell you something, and you're not going to reject it off hand." Before she could object, he said, "I think Rachel needs a new school."
She was obviously surprised by the sudden change in conversation. "What?"
"If we're going to get to a place where you trust me with Rachel, you're going to have to start letting me help you make the important decisions involving her."
"And you think she needs to go to a different school and that right now is the time to have that conversation?"
He shot her an unhappy look. "You do realize that those kids who made fun of her go to her school, yeah?” It was clear that she hadn’t by the expression on her face. But he wrote that off as exhaustion, not stupidity on her part. “You can’t let her grow up with those idiots.”
He was thankful she didn’t respond right away. The way the muscles in her jaw clenched made it obvious that she wanted to outright reject what he was saying. That she wasn’t was promising.
“And… what guarantee is there that a new school would make things better?” she asked after a moment. “Let’s say I pull her out, put her some place else. There’s no telling that things will be any different. Those kids might be just as mean, and what do we have to show for it? She’s in a new school, with no friends… a year behind because she’s failing now and no one will let her continue as -”
“Would that be so bad?” Realizing the question was vague, he added, “Not the no friends part. But like you said, she’s failing. Maybe it’s not a bad thing if she has to repeat.”
He wasn’t stupid enough to say that Rachel clearly needed the extra time. But Cuddy heard the words anyway.
“She’s not dumb,” she nearly yelled.
“No. She just has the misfortune of you rushing her through -”
“You’re talking about the cutoff date.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she couldn’t believe he was going back to that. He’d opposed it when the issue had first come up. But when she’d made it clear that she wouldn’t listen to him, he had dropped the matter. She thought now that she should have known better.
He thought he was right. And when he believed himself to be right, he never let it go. There might have been a moment where he seemed okay with the incorrect party winning - but that never lasted.
As he was proving now.
“Those kids make fun of her, because they know she’s not supposed to be there.”
“They do not,” Cuddy said with a scoff. “That date was arbitrary, and the school -”
“They let you do that, because you have money. And because when you tried to convince them that putting Rachel into a classroom she was obviously too young to be in, you were more than likely wearing that push bra -”
“I was not.”
“Which can make rational thinking awfully difficult. I should know.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Maybe not,” he conceded easily. “But that’s beside the point.” She gave him a dirty look that hinted at all of the things she would do to him if he didn’t get to the point soon. “Either way, you got her in that classroom before she was supposed to be there - and it shows. You tried this, but it hasn’t worked. She’s not ready for the material and -”
“I told you: she’s not stupid. I know you assume anyone who is not you is a complete -”
“No, she’s not. But she’s also not you,” he said in a firm voice.
She didn’t understand what he meant. “What is that -”
“Your mother pushed you your entire life.” Instantly Cuddy cringed; if he was trying to prove his point, comparing her to her mother was absolutely the worst way to go about it. But she didn’t have time to object before he added, “She pressured you, made you work harder than you would have otherwise, and you... did well under those circumstances. Which," he added. "Is why I know that the less time you have to sit with this decision about Rachel, the better chance I have. You thrive with that stress."
"You're oversimplifying," she said, feeling as though she had done everything but thrive under the stress of this weekend.
"A little, sure.”
“And I am not my mother.”
“No. I didn’t mean that. It’s just - my point is: she's not like that at all. She does not do well when you push her. She can't even put her pants on if you let on that she needs to hurry," he accused in a way that suggested to her that something along those lines had happened today. But if it had, he wasn't complaining now, as he didn't elaborate any further. He just said, "She's not a moron. She's just not ready. And by forcing her, you're putting her in a classroom with a bunch of jackasses who are going to assume that she is stupid because she isn't prepared to learn. And by putting her through that, you're turning school into a place she will never want to go to."
"That's... ridiculous."
She didn't really believe that. If she'd pushed Rachel before she was prepared, then the rest of his argument was simply logical. Cuddy wasn't sure he was right that her daughter wasn't ready for school, but there was enough doubt in her mind that the denial she uttered was hardly felt internally. If she spoke at all, it was simply to stop him from continuing. Exhausted she thought he had made his point clear; further discussion on his part would seem as though he were belaboring on the topic, attacking her over it. And if she felt attacked, then they would descend into another fight. She had denied to avoid any further disagreement.
They had done that enough already.
He must have understood how she felt, because immediately he stopped. Instead of trying to convince her further, he said, “Maybe it is.” It was obvious he didn’t believe that, but he was saying it to avoid angering her. “Just… think about it.”
“That’s it.” She was doubtful that that was all, but he nodded his head. “You’re going to compare me to my mother -”
“I wasn’t trying to do that.”
“And say that I should have Rachel switch schools and repeat grades and then that’s it? You’re done?”
“Yeah.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “I said I wanted to be a part of her life, and I do. Which means I get to have a say - at least eventually, so like I said: this is practice.”
He was being awfully calm, suspiciously so. Even if he meant what he was saying, she doubted he would remain as understanding and patient when she didn’t take his advice.
“And if I don’t do what you want?” she asked.
“Then you don’t.”
“And you’re not going to be mad?” The doubt couldn’t have been more obvious. “You won’t accuse me of purposely disregarding your suggestions.”
“I’ll make that accusation if you do. If you actually consider what I’m saying, that will be obvious, because when you do whatever the hell it is that you decide to do, you’ll have a reason behind it.”
She didn’t think it would be that painless. But frankly, if he wanted to be delusional, for now, she would let him. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to get mad now about it; she didn’t believe he would be nearly as understanding as he thought, but all she could now was wait and see what would happen, she guessed.
“Fine. Are we done?” she asked, standing up. She didn’t mean to cut things off so abruptly, but she knew that if she stayed in the conversation for much longer, all wishes to be patient would be meaningless.
But House wasn’t quick to let her go. Reaching for her hand, he didn’t let her get very far. “Just think about it.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t ask if she meant it, but the look in his eyes suggested that he was wondering.
“I said okay.”
“All right.” He must have realized that the words sounded dismissive, because he hastily added, “I mean that. I believe you.”
“Okay.”
She thought he would let her go. But what he did was simply change the subject.
“How do you feel?” he asked suddenly.
In her opinion, the answer to that question was obvious. “I’m tired, House. I want to go to bed.”
“I know. But if you weren’t feeling well, I was going to offer to bring you some tea or ginger ale or whatever you want.”
“Oh.”
It was the last thing she expected after the last twenty-four hours. All night he had been trying so hard to undo some of the cruel words he had said the previous evening; he’d made the effort to be kind, but somehow she assumed that the second the conversation about Rachel was over, he would cease being nice. He wouldn’t be mean, but the sales pitch would be done with; things would go back to the way they usually were. Apparently, he had other plans.
And right now, she was okay with going along with it. She had no desire to question or suspect. If he wanted to keep the act going, she would let him.
Her free hand rubbing the back of her neck, she said, “Okay. I guess I could drink some tea.”
“The ginger kind?” he asked, his nose scrunched up in mild disgust.
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” he said instantly. “I’ll make it. You go lie down.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
She didn’t wait around for him to change his mind. If he wanted to take care of her, by all means he could.
But in walking away from him, she found herself fixated on their conversation. Letting him become Rachel’s potential legal guardian was a terrifying prospect, one that made her anxious with the comprehension of its inevitability. House had made it clear that it was what he wanted; of that Cuddy had no doubt. And as she walked down the hallway towards their bedroom, she understood that he would get what he wanted. Eventually, as he often did, he would have his way. Her indecision was very real, but at some point, she would be unable to deny him what he wanted, what was best for all of them.
The fact that it was what was best for them was the truly frightening part of it all. Making him a permanent part of her family was the right thing to do, not because he wanted it, but because they would benefit from him having that title. At the moment that was hard to accept, but she wouldn’t deny it.
She couldn’t pretend like it wasn't happening or wasn't going to happen. That would just make it harder in the end to accept the inevitable.
But knowing that, she still found herself wary of taking steps in that direction. House had called it practice, as though anything they did right now was merely abstract and would have no impact on their lives. Changing Rachel's school, however, holding her back a grade or at least allowing the education system to do it... that seemed as real as it got. And Cuddy didn't know if it was that thought or the act of brushing her teeth that did it, but it was at that moment, toothbrush in hand, that the nausea hit her fully.
She immediately spit into the sink. The taste of mint was too strong on her taste buds, and she feared what would happen if she kept at this basic task. Quickly she rinsed out her mouth. Palm scooping water from the tap, she tried to calm herself down. She wouldn't get sick; she wouldn't have to make any important decisions now.
But that was a lie.
Admittedly she managed to straighten back up without seeing her dinner once more. She was able to dry her face off with only the slightest feeling of sickness roiling through her. And she thought that if she could just get in bed, she would be okay on that front. The situation with Rachel on the other hand...
That wasn't going to go away any time soon.
Cuddy again told herself she didn't need to reach any conclusions tonight. But again, she knew that was a lie. House had been right when he'd said that the sooner they made a decision, the easier it would be for all of them. That was especially true in this situation; the sooner a choice was made, the more time Cuddy would have to comfort her daughter. After all, if Rachel was going to spend the rest of her school days with the same children who had taunted her, that would take some smoothing over.
Or a lot of it.
Crawling into bed, Cuddy wondered then if perhaps House was right. Maybe a new school was optimal in this instance. Repeating a year was, of course, not what she wanted for her child, but perhaps that was an acceptable price to pay to get Rachel out of the classroom she was in. Surely, if the school stated that Rachel hadn't learned enough to progress, it would be nice to have some good news. Since being held back seemed likely no matter what, the promise of new friends might have been just the thing Rachel needed to be okay with that. Perhaps that would be the thing that kept Rachel from being upset at all.
But then... Cuddy knew that, with just a little more prodding, her daughter could easily go forward with her education. House said he wasn't calling her stupid, but the fact was he had no idea what an average child was capable of; having never been one himself, having never been interested in average in any way, he had no concept for it. He was willing to see her in elementary school until he died, because he had no understanding of what was normal for a five year old. Cuddy understood though, and she knew that, regardless of any comparisons he wanted to make to her mother, Rachel was smart enough to keep going. And five minutes with the principal, five minutes of explanations about teachers giving peanut butter to the wrong students and children being cruel, would be all that it took to explain Rachel's academic performance. House would no doubt write off any success as the result of underwear worn, but Cuddy knew that victory would have nothing to do with that. It just really was easy to believe that a five year old couldn't thrive under those conditions. And punishing Rachel for it seemed wrong. It felt drastic, to let Rachel’s schooling suffer because of some idiots who didn’t know how to be kind to her.
Just as her stomach flip-flopped, so did her mind. If Rachel had been distracted by those things - enough that her grades had fallen that badly - how much really had she learned? From the homework they did together, Cuddy could tell that Rachel… struggled a little. All this time, Cuddy had assumed that it was normal difficulties; Rachel didn’t want to do homework, or she didn’t like doing it with her mother breathing down her shoulder. But maybe that wasn’t the case.
Maybe… an extra year was what she needed.
Or perhaps instead of fighting with the current school, Cuddy could make better use of her time by convincing a new school to test her daughter. A placement test would offer them all the answers they needed, and in that case, no matter what happened, Rachel wouldn’t be stuck with the children who had made her feel so bad.
Of course, it bothered Cuddy to think that they would be pulling her out of school because of what other people had said. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said that there would always be someone out there who wasn’t happy with what you did in life. And there was the very real concern now that Rachel would take from this that she could run whenever things got difficult.
But… what would it teach Rachel if Cuddy, knowing all she knew about Rachel’s peers, did nothing?
What would that say?
She would have sighed in defeat then, if she weren’t so sure that exhaling with any intention would make her sick to her stomach. As much as she hated being forced to prove House right, she didn’t have any other choice here. Rachel needed to be elsewhere, and Cuddy couldn’t ignore that on the hunch that her daughter would turn out fine, regardless of what those children said or did. She wouldn’t ignore it. It just… would have been much easier to handle if he hadn’t been the one to suggest it.
She could deal with it if he responded with even the slightest hint of grace. Since it was House however, she knew she should expect the exact opposite from him.
She was too busy imagining the gloating when she felt his warm hand on her forehead. The touch unexpected, it scared her, and she jumped in surprise.
“Just me,” he said reassuringly, placing the mug of hot tea down on the nightstand next to her. “Your tea’s ready.” She was too busy swallowing back bile to respond. “Feel sick?”
“Yeah.”
“The pill or the whole mentioning of your mother -”
“The pill,” she groaned. “Although….”
As her voice trailed off, he leaned down and kissed her temple. He wasn’t sure if that would be enough to soothe her noticeable agitation, but it was worth a shot. “I’m sorry,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Drink your tea. You’ll feel better.”
She stayed where she was.
That meant she really didn’t feel well. Naturally, he backed away; he’d spent enough of his day wiping up body fluids from a Cuddy. He had no interest in capping the day off with vomit on him.
“I don’t know why you insist on not taking your birth control,” he teased as he moved away from her. Changing into his pajamas, he said patronizingly, “You always get sick in the end.”
“Well, from now on, I promise not to throw my pills into the toilet.”
“That’s my girl.”
He heard the gentle scrape of the mug on the nightstand at that moment. As he entered the bathroom, he let out a sigh of relief; if she was moving, at least there was a slight chance he wouldn’t be woken in the middle of the night by the sounds of her retching.
He wouldn’t deny that it sounded selfish. Or even that it was selfish, he mentally corrected as he picked up his toothbrush. He just didn’t care. After the day he had, he deserved a night of sleep; he needed it. If Cuddy got sick, he would be expected to take care of her. If he did, he would be unable to move in the morning, which would be a problem given that he assumed he would be watching Rachel tomorrow as well. If he left Cuddy to puke by herself, she would get pissed that he hadn’t held her hair or whatever. That would be the issue she fixated on, the reason she didn’t trust him with Rachel.
Of all the things she could complain about, he thought tiredly. But that was the price he’d have to pay to get what he wanted, right? He’d explicitly stated how things had to go, and now he had no choice but to ride out the consequences.
There was no way he could back out now.
He couldn’t even let on that he was willing to consider changing his mind. The sheer size of the task ahead of him gave him pause, made him almost willing to call the whole thing off. He didn’t regret saying what he had. It just… scared him to have his needs out there in the open with no real guarantee that she would ever meet them. And that made it tempting to swallow all of the things he said, write them off as a lie, and deal with her anger over that. But when all was said and done, as scary as it was, he wanted to see this through.
He had to.
And that meant he would never let, could never let any doubt show.
He wouldn’t consider what happened if (when) he failed. He would just do his best to make it seem like he was absolutely convinced that this was the right thing to do. And the best way to keep his game face on was to limit the amount of grief she gave him (and vice versa). If she got sick and he didn’t help, she would mad. If she got sick and he helped, he would be mad. Either way if she didn’t sleep through the nausea, they were screwed.
When he went back into the bedroom, he thought he might have gotten lucky. She was setting the mug of tea onto the nightstand again; she hadn’t puked, yet, which he felt was a good sign.
“Feel better?” he asked, as he gingerly tried to get into bed without jostling her too much.
“Fine.”
The way she said it, she sounded angry. Her attitude made no sense, considering he was doing his best to be nice to her. It made no sense at all, given that kindness was something she had hardly earned with her behavior. He’d forgiven, as he was in the process of getting what he wanted, and she was deciding to act like a bitch in return?
Offended, he stuck his tongue out at her, though she had her back to him and couldn’t see it.
She could, however, hear him say sarcastically, “Oh I’m sorry. Was I being too -”
“No, I mean - fine, I’ll look into other schools.”
He blinked in surprised, looked over at her as though she were nuts. “Seriously?”
“Don’t gloat,” she muttered into her pillow.
“I wasn’t. I’m just surprised.” Inwardly he would admit that there was a twinge of pleasure, knowing that she had thought about it and come to the same conclusion that he had. But he wasn’t going to ruin the moment by saying any of that out loud.
“I’m not guaranteeing anything,” she warned, probably because she sensed his happiness. “If it makes more sense for her to stay where she is, just switch classrooms or -”
“So those kids can make fun of her at recess? You think that’s a good idea?”
She craned her head around so she could glare at him. “I’m only saying that I’m leaving my options open for now. At least until I’ve had a chance to research everything.”
“Okay.”
“Which I will do in all of my free time.”
The bite in the words somehow seemed meant for him. On any other day, he might have been tempted to take the bait. Tonight he would let it slide, offering instead, “I can help if you -”
“Since I don’t need to know which teachers at each school make the best prospect to have a threesome with -”
“That information is always useful.”
She smiled before looking away. “It’s never going to happen.”
“Really?” Carefully he eased along the mattress so he could spoon against her. Lips on the back of her neck, he whispered, “But what if -”
“Never going to happen.”
“You’re mean.”
She grinned. “I know.”
“You going to make it up to me somehow?”
“You want me to reward you with something because I’ve told you for years now that you’ll never have a threesome with me?”
He nodded his head, which prompted her to shake hers.
“You’re delusional.”
His response was to nip lightly at her skin with his teeth. “Cruel woman.” But he got over the heartbreak quickly. “Fine. What if I baby sit for -“
“Oh no,” she interrupted smugly. “If you really want to play a part in her life -”
“I do,” he said with all seriousness.
“Then it’s no longer baby sitting, is it? You’re just… being her father then, aren’t you?”
She stumbled over the words, but in saying them, she found herself slightly less uncomfortable with the idea. It still scared her, and there remained a twinge of selfishness, a need to hold Rachel close and share her with nobody else. But those feelings were tempered with comprehension.
It was exactly as Cuddy had said. If he wanted to take on that role in her daughter’s life, then he could no longer demand reward for participation. He would simply be expected to do his share. There would be no bargaining, no bets, no favors. They would, she knew, find new ways to incorporate their sex life into unrelated activities and issues. That was one thing they seemed to be unusually gifted at, and she had no doubt that that behavior would continue. She hoped it did.
But taking care of Rachel was now off limits. And if the prospect of seeing House’s face when he realized that didn’t make the situation easier to accept, Cuddy wasn’t sure anything would.
Stunned into silence House didn’t respond, making her smile.
“Good night, House.”
Finally he said, “Why is it that that sounds like a threat?”
She patted the arm he had wrapped around her. She still wasn’t ready for any of this; she couldn’t say that she no longer had doubts. She did. But at least now there was something to look forward to, something she could cling to - even if it was something as small as having more control over House.
He would never see it that way, but it was true; he’d just cut himself off at the knees. He’d limited the amount of bargaining chips he had in their day-to-day lives. And it might not have been big, but she would absolutely relish that tiny victory. God, she couldn’t wait to see him squirm.
Of course, she wouldn’t deny his ingenuity. He would find new ways to manipulate, new avenues of control. But there could be fun in that. She chose to believe that anyway.
“Good night,” she repeated, thinking for the first time that things might not be as bad as she initially believed.
The End
I just want to thank everyone for taking the time to read and review and stick with this project of mine for the last couple of years. The journey has not been a quick one or even an easy one, but I hope that you all have enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it. I would also love it if you took the time to read and review just one last time for me. I’ve received various requests for prequels, sequels, etc, and I’m definitely open to that. So if you have an opinion on the matter, also feel free to let me know. Thank you so much. You will never know how appreciative I truly am.