No Children, 4/16, R
Aug. 22nd, 2008 09:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
damelolaTitle: No Children (part 4 of 16)
Author: Lola Lauriestein
Rating: R for language and some of the banter is getting a little more sexual!
Pairing: Cuddy/OMC, House/Cuddy, House, Cuddy, Wilson friendship.
Spoilers: Everything up to Wilson's Heart, takes place not long after.
Disclaimer: not-not-mine, House et al belong to David Shore, Fox etc. The song "No Children" is by The Mountain Goats, they are awesome and you should check them out.
Summary: Cuddy has a new boyfriend, House has a problem and Wilson is grieving. As matters go from bad to worse, will they be able to help each other as they once did? Friendships under strain and tough decisions ahoy.
With thanks to my awesome beta,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lucyvanflick! Thank you to everyone for your thoughtful and considered criticism so far, it's giving me so much confidence when something I really worked at goes over in the right way.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
“I hope we hang on past the last exit. I hope it’s already too late.”
Cuddy had skimmed the pile on her desk, quickly signing the few documents that absolutely couldn’t wait. With a relatively clear conscience, she had a free afternoon to dedicate to Blythe House’s case. She fervently wished that she would see something in this set of charts and test results that would fall in her own specialty. Having some bragging rights over House might be the only thing better than finding an alternative to cancer. Unfortunately, the endocrine culprits were among the easiest to rule out, and so she didn’t hold out much hope.
Hours passed as she pored over the notes, pausing only to place a call to one doctor or another, or for the odd water and bathroom break. The knock on her door took her entirely by surprise as her assistant had packed up and left at least an hour beforehand. When Zach entered the room, she was pleased but surprised to see him. He greeted her with a kiss, and then tilted his head to take a look at the files that were spread out around her on the sofa. Before he could get a decent look, she swept the multiple papers into a neat bundle.
“Zach, confidentiality!”
“Oh come on Lisa, who am I going to tell? I’m a law professor. Only half of the Latin makes sense to me.”
“Not the point, and you know it! What are you doing here anyway?”
Too late to bite back the irritation in her voice; she hadn’t meant to snap at him. It was nice that he was here the evening after they had slept together. Plenty of guys would still be trying to maintain a little distance, playing it cool.
“I did mention this morning about going for that drink with my friends from Montclair, right?” The hurt on his face compounded her misery; she had completely forgotten their conversation in the car.
“Zach, I’m so sorry it slipped my mind. It’s been one of those days, and to top it all off I have a case of my own now.”
It didn’t take the man with a PhD too long to work out that she’d made no offer to resume their plans. In fact, she was pretty much putting herself off limits for the evening and possibly beyond. This was generally the point where previously self-assured and understanding men started bitching about how her job was more important than the man she was dating. Not that the comment was unfair. It had been almost exclusively true.
“Want me to keep you company while you work? I could get us some takeout and see the guys another time?”
Cuddy smiled at the sweetness of his offer, but declined as her already waning concentration wouldn’t stand up to a guy clearly intent on an encore of the previous evening. He left her with another lingering kiss that tested her resolve. But before she could waver, he was gone, only the faint scent of his cologne proving that he had been there at all. It was really quite pleasant to have someone around who really wanted to spend time with her.
When her hunger became a distraction, she gathered up her purse and the file, intent on grabbing some Chinese before heading home. She made it as far as the clinic entrance before she saw House’s limping frame heading towards her. The glimmer of hope in his eyes was quickly extinguished when she could offer him no more than a weak smile.
She expected her offer of takeout and company to be dismissed out of hand, but felt better about her lack of progress with the case when he shrugged and followed her to the parking lot.
“I’m gonna stop off at the Peking Palace on my way home. You can wait for me, but do not break into my house again, ok?”
House gave her his best naughty schoolboy face and protested his innocent intentions. As she turned to her car, he caught her by the elbow, causing her to gasp at the unexpected contact.
“Can I ride with you? My bike and my thigh are having a slight difference of opinion.”
God, Cuddy thought, for House to admit an actual weakness was like a lunar eclipse – as rare as it was quietly spectacular. He had a way of asking that shot straight through her heart, though she knew well that the physical ache was merely her imagination in overdrive. She unlocked the doors and nodded her agreement, as though him riding in her car was an everyday occurrence.
Aside from mocking her about her expensive car and apparently questionable habit of ordering only vegetables, the ride home was mostly uneventful. He didn’t ask about her progress with his mother’s diagnosis, and she refused to crush him with her failure thus far.
He seemed different inside her house, and commented himself that it was weird to be there with permission. Her dining table was out of commission, and so they settled for balancing plates on their laps as they relaxed on her sofa. Eating in companionable silence, Cuddy tried to remember the last time they had seen each other socially. The meals she had cooked for him during his convalescence didn’t count, and she feared it might have been the poker night when he finally “saved” Esther. She made a mental note to call Zach before she went to bed, not wanting to get into the habit of disappointing him so early on.
It didn’t take a psychic to know that House would make no move to help with the washing up. He did, however, help himself to a large glass of the single malt she had been saving.
“So,” she began, as they settled once more on the cushions, this time House elected to join her on the large sofa by the window.
“So what? You spent the day learning all those big medical words and couldn’t find anything to do with them?” His snark was milder than usual, but welcome as a sign of normality.
“So your mom has some pretty serious stuff going on. If you don’t mind me asking, why did she take so long to get it checked out?”
He swirled the remainder of his drink in the heavy glass, apparently fascinated by the light reflecting in the amber liquid.
“She didn’t want to worry me. She figured it was hemorrhoids, or some other side effect of getting old. It was only when the pain got close to unbearable that she went to her doctor, and he told her to call me. I’ve had him run tests, and he referred her to this Finnan quack. If I can just work out what they’re missing…It’s hard to think straight.”
She eased the whisky from his long fingers, relegating the glass to the floor.
“That can’t be helping. Not to mention the fact that there are reasons why they don’t let us consult for family members. Give yourself a break already.”
Something remotely resembling gratitude flashed across his face as he leaned back into the overabundance of cushions. Scratching his fingers gently across his stubble, he turned to look at her, warmth in his eyes for the first time in weeks. It struck Cuddy how young he looked there in the soft yellow light of her living room. The tiredness was etched into every line of his face, but when he finally relaxed some of the tension in his muscles, all she could see was the boy terrified of losing his mother. Another pang surged through her chest and she searched desperately for something to say. Before she could conjure up a decent platitude, House broke their easy silence.
“I need you to do something for me. I need you to tell me the prognosis. Some stupid thing in my brain won’t let me read that last page. I can guess; I know it’s bad, but I need someone to break it to me. You’re the only person I can cope with listening to right now.”
Cuddy felt her mouth go dry with sheer panic. After all the time and energy he had spent worrying over this, he was in denial, refusing to accept the situation. That’s why he was killing himself trying to find an alternative diagnosis - he couldn’t cope with this one. Each one of those increasingly bleak pages had imprinted itself on Cuddy’s memory, and the words from the last page, the attending’s prognosis, were dancing around her brain in garish neon. How many death sentences had she passed out over the years? Why should this one be any more difficult? A simple statement of facts and a comforting gesture was all that was required. Unable to deny his request, she went ahead, feeling her heart break a little more with every word.
“The colonoscopy and biopsy confirmed that it’s Stage 3C. It’s spread too far to be sure of getting it all out. Dr. Finnan is recommending chemo and palliative care. His surgeon has signed off on that, believes the tumor is inoperable. They’ve given her about three months. I couldn’t find anything in the case notes to suggest anything different.”
“I’m so sorry, House.”
As she finished, the first sob escaped from his throat and she grabbed him instinctively. Pressing his body to her own, she gently stroked his arm and placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head as he cried. Her lips brushed the slight parting in his hair caused by his scar, and she willed herself not to cry along with him, failing almost immediately.
After a time - it could have been 10 minutes or 40 - House withdrew from her embrace and righted his position on the sofa. As he rearranged his practiced indifference, he allowed one last moment of vulnerability.
“Thank you.”
His gaze was piercing, even from red-rimmed eyes. Her initial worry that he would hold this moment against her, blame her somewhere down the line for what was about to happen, evaporated. In that moment, she was almost grateful that he had shared this with her, let her help him.
None of which explained why she kissed him.
In fact, there was no explanation for kissing House, but Cuddy was operating on pure gut feeling. Instinctively she pressed her fingers to his damp cheeks, her lips seeking his with quiet desperation. She wanted to kiss away the pain he was feeling, make him realize he wasn’t alone. Anything in a vain attempt to comfort him.
There could be no misunderstanding about the way he kissed her back, claiming her mouth with a patent ferocity. He tasted of warm Scotch and coriander, the gentle pressure of his tongue against her own making Cuddy’s head spin. In the numerous years since their night together, she had forgotten how soft his lips were, the insistence of his kissing and the way it left her breathless. Entirely carried away, she lowered her hands to the buttons of his shirt, intent on fucking him right there on her couch.
That proved a step too far for House’s incredibly confused brain, and he pulled away from her as though stung. Arousal mixed with pain as he stared at her, mouth open in half-hearted protest.
“I knew he wasn’t doing it for you in the sack. Had to jump the first vulnerable cripple you came across, huh?”
Cuddy blushed furiously. For the last few seconds she had completely forgotten about Zach. Was it really so long ago that she had been planning to call him and flirt outrageously? Here she was taking advantage of a devastated friend, never mind the complication of him being an employee, all because she couldn’t think of the right words to say? The feeling that she would have done it anyway, damaged or not, was one she fought to suppress as she tried to excuse herself.
“House, I’m sorry. I was just trying to….”
“Give me a hard-on in the hope I’d forget everything else? Well, you only half-succeeded Cuddy.”
Before they could continue their incredibly awkward argument, his cell phone invaded the room with its shrill ring. With a few muttered words on his end, the call was over, and without so much as another glance at Cuddy, he took his cane and walked out of her living room. The slamming of her front door was enough to jolt fresh tears from her eyes.
Chapter 5
Author: Lola Lauriestein
Rating: R for language and some of the banter is getting a little more sexual!
Pairing: Cuddy/OMC, House/Cuddy, House, Cuddy, Wilson friendship.
Spoilers: Everything up to Wilson's Heart, takes place not long after.
Disclaimer: not-not-mine, House et al belong to David Shore, Fox etc. The song "No Children" is by The Mountain Goats, they are awesome and you should check them out.
Summary: Cuddy has a new boyfriend, House has a problem and Wilson is grieving. As matters go from bad to worse, will they be able to help each other as they once did? Friendships under strain and tough decisions ahoy.
With thanks to my awesome beta,
lucyvanflick! Thank you to everyone for your thoughtful and considered criticism so far, it's giving me so much confidence when something I really worked at goes over in the right way. Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
“I hope we hang on past the last exit. I hope it’s already too late.”
Cuddy had skimmed the pile on her desk, quickly signing the few documents that absolutely couldn’t wait. With a relatively clear conscience, she had a free afternoon to dedicate to Blythe House’s case. She fervently wished that she would see something in this set of charts and test results that would fall in her own specialty. Having some bragging rights over House might be the only thing better than finding an alternative to cancer. Unfortunately, the endocrine culprits were among the easiest to rule out, and so she didn’t hold out much hope.
Hours passed as she pored over the notes, pausing only to place a call to one doctor or another, or for the odd water and bathroom break. The knock on her door took her entirely by surprise as her assistant had packed up and left at least an hour beforehand. When Zach entered the room, she was pleased but surprised to see him. He greeted her with a kiss, and then tilted his head to take a look at the files that were spread out around her on the sofa. Before he could get a decent look, she swept the multiple papers into a neat bundle.
“Zach, confidentiality!”
“Oh come on Lisa, who am I going to tell? I’m a law professor. Only half of the Latin makes sense to me.”
“Not the point, and you know it! What are you doing here anyway?”
Too late to bite back the irritation in her voice; she hadn’t meant to snap at him. It was nice that he was here the evening after they had slept together. Plenty of guys would still be trying to maintain a little distance, playing it cool.
“I did mention this morning about going for that drink with my friends from Montclair, right?” The hurt on his face compounded her misery; she had completely forgotten their conversation in the car.
“Zach, I’m so sorry it slipped my mind. It’s been one of those days, and to top it all off I have a case of my own now.”
It didn’t take the man with a PhD too long to work out that she’d made no offer to resume their plans. In fact, she was pretty much putting herself off limits for the evening and possibly beyond. This was generally the point where previously self-assured and understanding men started bitching about how her job was more important than the man she was dating. Not that the comment was unfair. It had been almost exclusively true.
“Want me to keep you company while you work? I could get us some takeout and see the guys another time?”
Cuddy smiled at the sweetness of his offer, but declined as her already waning concentration wouldn’t stand up to a guy clearly intent on an encore of the previous evening. He left her with another lingering kiss that tested her resolve. But before she could waver, he was gone, only the faint scent of his cologne proving that he had been there at all. It was really quite pleasant to have someone around who really wanted to spend time with her.
When her hunger became a distraction, she gathered up her purse and the file, intent on grabbing some Chinese before heading home. She made it as far as the clinic entrance before she saw House’s limping frame heading towards her. The glimmer of hope in his eyes was quickly extinguished when she could offer him no more than a weak smile.
She expected her offer of takeout and company to be dismissed out of hand, but felt better about her lack of progress with the case when he shrugged and followed her to the parking lot.
“I’m gonna stop off at the Peking Palace on my way home. You can wait for me, but do not break into my house again, ok?”
House gave her his best naughty schoolboy face and protested his innocent intentions. As she turned to her car, he caught her by the elbow, causing her to gasp at the unexpected contact.
“Can I ride with you? My bike and my thigh are having a slight difference of opinion.”
God, Cuddy thought, for House to admit an actual weakness was like a lunar eclipse – as rare as it was quietly spectacular. He had a way of asking that shot straight through her heart, though she knew well that the physical ache was merely her imagination in overdrive. She unlocked the doors and nodded her agreement, as though him riding in her car was an everyday occurrence.
Aside from mocking her about her expensive car and apparently questionable habit of ordering only vegetables, the ride home was mostly uneventful. He didn’t ask about her progress with his mother’s diagnosis, and she refused to crush him with her failure thus far.
He seemed different inside her house, and commented himself that it was weird to be there with permission. Her dining table was out of commission, and so they settled for balancing plates on their laps as they relaxed on her sofa. Eating in companionable silence, Cuddy tried to remember the last time they had seen each other socially. The meals she had cooked for him during his convalescence didn’t count, and she feared it might have been the poker night when he finally “saved” Esther. She made a mental note to call Zach before she went to bed, not wanting to get into the habit of disappointing him so early on.
It didn’t take a psychic to know that House would make no move to help with the washing up. He did, however, help himself to a large glass of the single malt she had been saving.
“So,” she began, as they settled once more on the cushions, this time House elected to join her on the large sofa by the window.
“So what? You spent the day learning all those big medical words and couldn’t find anything to do with them?” His snark was milder than usual, but welcome as a sign of normality.
“So your mom has some pretty serious stuff going on. If you don’t mind me asking, why did she take so long to get it checked out?”
He swirled the remainder of his drink in the heavy glass, apparently fascinated by the light reflecting in the amber liquid.
“She didn’t want to worry me. She figured it was hemorrhoids, or some other side effect of getting old. It was only when the pain got close to unbearable that she went to her doctor, and he told her to call me. I’ve had him run tests, and he referred her to this Finnan quack. If I can just work out what they’re missing…It’s hard to think straight.”
She eased the whisky from his long fingers, relegating the glass to the floor.
“That can’t be helping. Not to mention the fact that there are reasons why they don’t let us consult for family members. Give yourself a break already.”
Something remotely resembling gratitude flashed across his face as he leaned back into the overabundance of cushions. Scratching his fingers gently across his stubble, he turned to look at her, warmth in his eyes for the first time in weeks. It struck Cuddy how young he looked there in the soft yellow light of her living room. The tiredness was etched into every line of his face, but when he finally relaxed some of the tension in his muscles, all she could see was the boy terrified of losing his mother. Another pang surged through her chest and she searched desperately for something to say. Before she could conjure up a decent platitude, House broke their easy silence.
“I need you to do something for me. I need you to tell me the prognosis. Some stupid thing in my brain won’t let me read that last page. I can guess; I know it’s bad, but I need someone to break it to me. You’re the only person I can cope with listening to right now.”
Cuddy felt her mouth go dry with sheer panic. After all the time and energy he had spent worrying over this, he was in denial, refusing to accept the situation. That’s why he was killing himself trying to find an alternative diagnosis - he couldn’t cope with this one. Each one of those increasingly bleak pages had imprinted itself on Cuddy’s memory, and the words from the last page, the attending’s prognosis, were dancing around her brain in garish neon. How many death sentences had she passed out over the years? Why should this one be any more difficult? A simple statement of facts and a comforting gesture was all that was required. Unable to deny his request, she went ahead, feeling her heart break a little more with every word.
“The colonoscopy and biopsy confirmed that it’s Stage 3C. It’s spread too far to be sure of getting it all out. Dr. Finnan is recommending chemo and palliative care. His surgeon has signed off on that, believes the tumor is inoperable. They’ve given her about three months. I couldn’t find anything in the case notes to suggest anything different.”
“I’m so sorry, House.”
As she finished, the first sob escaped from his throat and she grabbed him instinctively. Pressing his body to her own, she gently stroked his arm and placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head as he cried. Her lips brushed the slight parting in his hair caused by his scar, and she willed herself not to cry along with him, failing almost immediately.
After a time - it could have been 10 minutes or 40 - House withdrew from her embrace and righted his position on the sofa. As he rearranged his practiced indifference, he allowed one last moment of vulnerability.
“Thank you.”
His gaze was piercing, even from red-rimmed eyes. Her initial worry that he would hold this moment against her, blame her somewhere down the line for what was about to happen, evaporated. In that moment, she was almost grateful that he had shared this with her, let her help him.
None of which explained why she kissed him.
In fact, there was no explanation for kissing House, but Cuddy was operating on pure gut feeling. Instinctively she pressed her fingers to his damp cheeks, her lips seeking his with quiet desperation. She wanted to kiss away the pain he was feeling, make him realize he wasn’t alone. Anything in a vain attempt to comfort him.
There could be no misunderstanding about the way he kissed her back, claiming her mouth with a patent ferocity. He tasted of warm Scotch and coriander, the gentle pressure of his tongue against her own making Cuddy’s head spin. In the numerous years since their night together, she had forgotten how soft his lips were, the insistence of his kissing and the way it left her breathless. Entirely carried away, she lowered her hands to the buttons of his shirt, intent on fucking him right there on her couch.
That proved a step too far for House’s incredibly confused brain, and he pulled away from her as though stung. Arousal mixed with pain as he stared at her, mouth open in half-hearted protest.
“I knew he wasn’t doing it for you in the sack. Had to jump the first vulnerable cripple you came across, huh?”
Cuddy blushed furiously. For the last few seconds she had completely forgotten about Zach. Was it really so long ago that she had been planning to call him and flirt outrageously? Here she was taking advantage of a devastated friend, never mind the complication of him being an employee, all because she couldn’t think of the right words to say? The feeling that she would have done it anyway, damaged or not, was one she fought to suppress as she tried to excuse herself.
“House, I’m sorry. I was just trying to….”
“Give me a hard-on in the hope I’d forget everything else? Well, you only half-succeeded Cuddy.”
Before they could continue their incredibly awkward argument, his cell phone invaded the room with its shrill ring. With a few muttered words on his end, the call was over, and without so much as another glance at Cuddy, he took his cane and walked out of her living room. The slamming of her front door was enough to jolt fresh tears from her eyes.
Chapter 5
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2008-08-22 08:40 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-08-23 11:48 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-08-22 01:50 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-08-23 11:52 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-08-22 02:36 pm (UTC)I also find Zach oddly compelling. He feels like a real character, not just a prop to get House and Cuddy together. But they ARE going to get together, right? flutter goes my fangirl heart.
Oh, one more thing. I like it that Cuddy may think she simply took advantage of a friend, and House may think she's just not satisfied in bed . . . but any
readerfangirl can clearly see that kisses like those are symptomatic of a deeper caring. Getting House and Cuddy to see that should be interesting.Amazing chapter!
no subject
on 2008-08-23 11:45 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-08-22 02:47 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-08-23 11:46 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-08-25 06:54 am (UTC)It makes sense to me that House would be particularly vulnerable to anything regards his mother and that Cuddy would be vulnerable to anything that caused House more pain.
And that they would both be kind of stupid about it... so very ic. Looking forward to the next one. Except it's already out and I don't have to wait yay!
no subject
on 2008-08-25 08:56 am (UTC)Glad I didn't keep you waiting ;)
no subject
on 2008-08-25 08:35 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-08-25 09:04 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-08-25 09:05 am (UTC)