http://hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] cuddys_house2009-07-02 06:28 am

Wednesday, 11 April, evening

"Are you sure your Dr. House will like this?"

"Don't worry, Mom," Cuddy said. She checked the rice dish simmering on the stove, inhaling the rich aroma of wild rice, mushrooms and a heady mix of herbs and seasonings. She replaced the lid on the pot and turned to face her mother. "As long as there are no pickles in it, he'll eat it."

Carol Cuddy gave her daughter a puzzled and somewhat suspicious look but she seemed willing to drop the subject when she turned to the counter to finish tearing the lettuce for a salad. Cuddy had been busy deflecting questions ever since her mother had arrived on Sunday. She understood her mother's curiosity but there simply was no way to explain House. He had to be experienced to be believed. She simply hoped her mother's experience of House would less...colorful than most of his social interactions.

"Are you sure he's coming?"

"Mom," Cuddy said, exasperated. Really, she'd had a good visit with her mother. They'd shopped, gossiped, put some finishing touches on the baby's room and generally done the usual mother-daughter things. It was only Mom's relentless questions about House that made Cuddy want to pack her mother back on the plane home.

She pulled the steaks, which had been marinating, out of the fridge and set the platter on the counter. She'd just been outside to check on the grill and the coals were just right. As soon as House arrived, she'd toss the steaks on the grill. Until he arrived, though, her mother's fascination with Cuddy's 'invisible' boyfriend was running white hot.

"He'll be here," Cuddy said. "He won't like it, but he'll be here."

"Why wouldn't he like it?" Mom asked as she rinsed her hands under the faucet. She dried her hands on the dishtowel and turned to face Cuddy, shoulders back and a determined look on her face. "What did you tell him about me?"

"I told him you're evil and you'll turn him into a toad if you don't like him." Cuddy relented with a little shrug when her mother merely rolled her eyes at her daughter. "It has nothing to do with you specifically. He's just.... House doesn't do well in social situations. He's awkward and he knows he's awkward and it makes him defensive."

There was a lot more to House's lack of social graces, of course, but Cuddy wasn't about to go into a long discourse on the nature of his emotional pathology. Hell, she didn't understand it completely herself so she could hardly explain it to someone else. Mostly, though, she wanted her mother to get to know House on her own terms. Cuddy was only trying to ease the way a bit.

"For heaven's sake--I'm not going to attack him," Mom said.

"Not by your definition, maybe," Cuddy said under her breath. House was likely to see her mother's questions in a completely different light. Knowing House, he was likely to see everything about this dinner in a different and unflattering light. There was nothing more she could do about that, though. She'd tried to prepare House, she'd tried to prepare her mom. Now she could only throw them together and hope she wasn't bringing on the apocalypse.

And speak of the devil.... "That's probably him," Cuddy said when she heard a faint knock from the front door. Her heart was suddenly fluttering rapidly in her chest as she headed for the door. She wanted so badly for this to go well. Or at least, to not go badly. She wanted her mother to see what she loved about House and she wanted House to accept that family was not a bad word. As with so many things with him, though, she had very little control over how it turned out.

She stopped in front of the door and took a few deeps breaths to calm herself, then she reached for the doorknob and opened the door.

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com 2009-07-02 05:26 pm (UTC)(link)
House had been standing on Cuddy's front porch, staring at the front door, for close to ten minutes.

For most of the day, he'd managed to mostly pretend the meeting with Cuddy's mom wasn't going to happen. It wasn't until Wilson had stopped by his office late in the afternoon and asked if House wanted to grab a pizza after work that he started to feel nervous. "Can't," was all he'd dismissively replied as he dumped his bag on his desk to pack up in preparation of heading home.

Wilson had quirked his brows. "'Can't'?"

"Yeah. It's a contraction of cannot. Means, 'sorry, gotta take a raincheck on the pizza'."

"I know what it means," Wilson had retorted. "The thing I'm not sure of is the way in which you said it: about as enthusiastically as the prospect of having your teeth pulled at the dentist." He'd eyed House curiously. "What's Cuddy put you up to? A romantic dinner? Something that involves actually having to be nice for a change?"

Dinner, yes. Romantic, no. Having to be nice... well, that was entirely relative. He'd zipped his bag up and slung it over his shoulder, his gut twisting in nervousness, all thanks to Wilson setting off reminders in his head about what the evening had in store for him. "Meeting the Fockers," he'd replied. And with that, he'd stepped around his desk and strode to the door. "G'night, Wilson."

It was close to 5.30 by the time he arrived home and after he'd had a small drink of bourbon to settle his nerves and a shower, he'd stood in his bedroom and found himself agonising over what to wear. For fuck's sake, he'd thought to himself. The fact that he knew he had to make an impression made him not want to make a good impression. He wanted so badly to just turn up and not give a crap about what Cuddy's mother thought of him. He wanted so badly to not care if Cuddy's mom hated him. He wanted even more to not give a crap if Cuddy's mom liked him. And being liked was a whole lot scarier than being hated. At least if he was hated, he wouldn't have to keep trying and he would have an excuse to stay away. If he was liked, however, that meant all sorts of trouble. The only problem was, if he didn't make an effort, he had Cuddy's disappointment in him to contend with. And as much as he wished he didn't have to give a crap about that, he didn't have a choice. It was impossible to be in a relationship with someone and be a complete disappointment to them at the same time.

In the end, he'd settled for the blue button down and grey slacks. He'd ran his fingers through his damp hair as a rough means of combing it, shrugged his bike jacket on and grabbed his helmet. At 6.15pm, he was out the door and not at all ready to face the music.

Apprehension had grown in him tenfold while he rode in the direction of Cuddy's place. Several blocks before the turn off, he'd suddenly pulled up by a liquor store and went into select a bottle of wine. He'd used the distraction as a means of stalling for time, staring at bottles of red. He'd selected a merlot in the end, paid for it and mounted his bike to continue to Cuddy's house. And when he'd finally pulled up outside it, his stomach was all twisted into knots.

Which led to him to where he was now: standing on the porch and trying not to give into the urge to double back to his bike and flee to the safety of his home where there were no girlfriend's parents to deal with. Finally, he knocked on the door with all the enthusiasm of, as Wilson had said, the prospect of having his teeth pulled at the dentist. His heart leapt anxiously when the handle turned and god only knew what his expression revealed as Cuddy opened the door.

"Hey," he greeted.

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com 2009-07-02 10:18 pm (UTC)(link)
He was mildly exasperated at the way Cuddy pulled him into the house. He wanted at least another thirty seconds to decide if he really was ready to deal with facing the grandmother of his kid whom he'd never met before. The smell of food cooking hit his nose the moment the door shut.

He stood, awkward, as Cuddy pulled him to her. With his cane in one hand and the strap of his helmet and the bottle of wine dangling in the other, he didn't have an arm to spare to hug her back. He was way too on guard to start doing things like getting affectionate, anyway.

"Do I at least get to hear my last rites?" he muttered in reply. He couldn't really scope if Cuddy was frazzled at all by her mother's presence. After all the things he'd heard about this Mrs. Cuddy, he wasn't sure what to expect. A hen that ran around the house, clucking?

He looked up, a little startled and like a deer in the headlights when he heard an unfamiliar voice. He studied her warily while Cuddy introduce her mother and him to each other. He'd seen pictures of Mom Cuddy in Cuddy's photo albums; she looked exactly as he remembered those pictures, only a little older. Cuddy didn't have a huge resemblance to her mother. He could see it a little but it wasn't overly striking.

As Mom Cuddy approached, he eyed her outstretched hand. God, he felt so put on the spot. He glanced at Cuddy, more awkward than ever, and hesitantly handed the wine bottle to her.

He then returned his attention to Cuddy's mom and clasped her hand. "Yeah," he replied, though his tone didn't indicate that he agreed it was wonderful to meet her. He shook her hand and then let it go and stepped back. "I'm 'Doctor Daddy'," he continued in the same cautious, dry tone. "And I'm not gay."

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com 2009-07-03 12:41 pm (UTC)(link)
"No, makes perfect sense," House said, attempting to affect politeness. "Your daughter seems just the type to sleep with gay men."

Okay, so maybe that wasn't so polite. Too late, though - he'd said it now. He shifted his weight against his cane and looked elsewhere, for escape, for something to save him by the bell, anything. Instead he ended up nodding as Cuddy told him to put away his things and he turned away to set his helmet down.

Leaning his cane against the wall, he then shrugged out of his bike jacket and hung it up. He drew in a deep sigh, tried to push away the still simmering nervousness, and turned back towards Cuddy and her mom. He took a couple of idle steps in their direction, maintaining a careful distance all the while. He felt out of place, like he was too big and too prominent in Cuddy's front hall. And of course neither of them would be getting rid of Mom Cuddy easily, though he was pretty sure that within the hour she'll be wanting to get rid of him.

"Well, you know what happens when dealing with a fly gets out of hand," he replied. "It usually requires intervention, which means sending in the swat team."

He glanced between Cuddy and her mother. This was going to go down well if he kept opening his mouth. He turned to Cuddy's mother and continued, sounding somewhere between awkward and sarcastic, "Not that you're a fly. I'm sure you're lovely." He paused and he knew he should've left it at that, but added, "Someone that's more than welcome to buzz around family dinners. Or whatever tonight's supposed to be."

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com 2009-07-03 03:34 pm (UTC)(link)
House pursed his lips while watching Cuddy and her mother playing verbal volleyball. He was already understanding what Cuddy meant about her mother being overbearing. He was barely through the door and Mom Cuddy was already declaring nothing to be sacred. Boy, he was in for a fun night, he thought dryly.

His brows rose slightly at the mention of Cuddy's boyfriend and his eyes widened slightly in uncertainty as Mom Cuddy turned on him and challenged him about her sister. "Is that an invitation or a threat?" he muttered under his breath as Cuddy steered her mom out of the hall and towards the kitchen. He wanted to stay right where he was. In fact, he wanted to find a different room altogether to hide out in. No such luck, not with the way Cuddy was silently demanding him to follow.

He sighed heavily and limped after them, coming to a stop by the kitchen doorway and refusing to venture in any further. He was still feeling too big, too prominent, like a feature in the room that was completely out of place. While Mom Cuddy continued about this yenta sister of hers, he uncomfortably lifted a hand and rubbed his thumb across his eyebrow.

He wasn't expecting her to turn on him again and not only address her issues about wanting to be informed of Cuddy's happiness like that was his business, but drag his mom into it, too. He darted his eyes to Cuddy. He almost wanted to ask her if he could be excused and for her to come and get him when the nightmare was all over.

Instead, he dropped his hand back to his side and leaned against his cane a little heavier as he turned his gaze back on Mom Cuddy. "For all you know, my mom could be dead."

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com 2009-07-03 05:47 pm (UTC)(link)
House was triumphant at least somewhat stopping Cuddy's mother in her tracks, but the triumph was very short-lived. He didn't actually like speaking that way about his mom - he loved her, he cared about her in his own way, he didn't like the thought of anything happening to her. The day she passed on was going to be a sad day for him.

But that wasn't what made his triumph short-lived. Cuddy correcting what he'd said did it, with Cuddy's mom quickly coming back up to speed with the conversation again. And when she started to bossily tell him that his mother wanted to know if he was happy, he bristled and sharply. First of all, it was none of her business. Second of all, he really didn't like the direction this conversation was taking.

Thirdly, he really didn't like the way she was talking down at him. Wagging her finger at him, bossing him, telling him what his mother did and didn't want to know like she had some kind of authority on the matter. He tightened his jaw, a hundred different sharp retorts firing through his mind. No, you don't, he thought crisply when she said she wanted to talk to him.

Luckily for her, Cuddy interrupted. He eyed the platter of meat. Cooking hadn't been part of the agreement for showing up. He was not enthusiastic about being put to work. But he understood Cuddy's intent and was even grateful for it. He hooked his cane over his forearm, took the platter and exchanged a look with Cuddy, before he limped into the kitchen.

He heard Cuddy's mother still waffling on as he headed for the back door. He stopped and looked back. "How do you want you meat cooked, Cuddy?" he asked, emphasising her last name, seeing her mother had brought up why Cuddy called him House and not Greg.

He stepped out to the patio once he got his answer and set the platter down next to the barbeque. Flipping the lid up, he portioned the steaks onto the grill, each sizzling with a hiss of steam, and stared down at them as they cooked with a weary sigh.

God, Cuddy's mother was exhausting. Or maybe he was just extra prone to being exhausted because of what the whole evening meant. Whatever the reason, he so didn't want to be here. He had the whole night ahead of him to get through, too, and Cuddy's mom was not only overbearing, she was also way too curious for her own good. Not a good combination, not for him, someone who was not only insanely private about his life but hated family gatherings of any kind even on a good day.

And this wasn't a family gathering, he reminded himself. Just because half his chromosomes were baking in Cuddy's uterus didn't mean he was automatically a member of the Cuddy clan, no matter what Cuddy claimed. He'd hardly taken to Cuddy's mom in any way that made him think of the word 'family'. He could barely even wrap his head around Cuddy being his family, or this kid, let alone a complete overbearing stranger like her mom.

He picked up the tongs and was flipping the steaks over when the back door opened and someone stepped out.

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com 2009-07-04 02:23 am (UTC)(link)
House looked at Cuddy stepping out. "For whom?" he retorted.

Easy for Cuddy to say this wasn't going to get any worse. She knew her mother, for a start. She therefore knew what to expect and how to handle her. House didn't, on both counts, and he had the added pressure of having to be on his best behaviour. So, yeah, it probably was going to get a lot worse than this, just not for Cuddy or for her mom.

He turned his attention back to the steaks. flipping another one over. He drew in a deep breath, willing him to try and relax a little, but it didn't really work. Knowing he had to go back in there was hardly a consoling thought.

"Your mother's a real doll," he said, sarcasm dripping off every syllable.

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com 2009-07-04 03:52 am (UTC)(link)
"What does her being a grandmother have anything to do with it? I'm not stopping her from being a grandmother, whether I'm around or not. If my impression of her is right, not even a house dropping on your mom would stop her from being a grandmother."

Except he knew why he had to be involved; it was the very same reason why he'd agreed to show up tonight, though Cuddy reminding him of that fact did little more than make him feel guilty, as though he was the one being unreasonable.

Hearing her mother at the back door, he snapped his eyes up to her and thought for a horrifying moment that she was going to join them out in the backyard. Oh god, no, he almost said aloud. He wasn't safe anywhere in Cuddy's place. Her mother was like one of those creatures from War Of The Worlds. Those aliens with tentacles which could fit into any nook and cranny to find victims that were trying to hide from their fate.

Luckily, Cuddy deterred her mother and sent her back inside. House relaxed slightly and turned another steak over. He realised then that the steaks seemed done. He grabbed a plate and started to pile the steaks onto it. "Yeah," he replied. "And let's watch you regret saying that in a couple of hours' time."

He dropped the tongs onto the platter and held the plate out to Cuddy. "Steaks are done." He made no move to take them inside himself. Maybe he could just hang out in the backyard for the rest of the evening.

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com 2009-07-04 12:24 pm (UTC)(link)
House hung back as Cuddy headed back inside, even after she'd tugged his arm, determined to stay put. Who said he needed to interact, after all? All Cuddy had said was for him to show up. Well, he'd shown up. He'd done his bit. Showing up didn't mean he had to participate.

But he knew, as much as he was loathe to admit it, that he wasn't going to get away with that. If he did stay out in the backyard, one of two things would happen: Cuddy would come out and chase him inside, or she'd bring the dinner out to the backyard where he'd have no escape anyway. He sighed in defeat and slouched to the door, letting himself in and hanging tentatively by the kitchen doorway, right out of Cuddy's mother's way.

And what timing. He walked in just as Cuddy was telling her mother to take him out to the dining room for some wine tasting. He turned a horrified look on Cuddy and was just about to shake his head in frantic protest when her mother interrupted with an order for him to follow her. Her using his first name made him bristle. Nobody called him by his first name, not even his best friend. Not even Cuddy called him by his first name except in bed, and even then he was House to her. The familiarity Cuddy's mom had chosen to assume made him very uncomfortable.

He darted his eyes back to Cuddy, then forced an insincere smile on his face at her mom. With little choice but to follow lest he wanted to be questioned on why he was so mortified by the idea of being alone in the same room as her, he trailed after her, shooting Cuddy another look along the way.

He hung back from the table while Cuddy's mother set the bottle and glasses down. What the hell was he supposed to say to her? Polite conversation for the sake of polite conversation aggravated him like nothing else. He typically would've been exceptionally intrigued to know more about Cuddy's mother and would've used the opportunity to pry as much as he could with the most inappropriate questions, if only to piss Cuddy off. That is, that's what he typically would've done had he not been the father of Cuddy's baby.

"So, uh..." he began, frantically searching his brain for something banal to say. He drew in a breath and gave an awkward rub of his forehead. "How long are in Princeton for?"

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com 2009-07-04 03:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Her mentioning she was heading home the next day reminded him that Cuddy had in fact already told him that. And of course her mom would be back after the baby was born but hearing her say that aloud filled him with a new kind of dread: meeting her had made the reality of dealing with Cuddy's family flesh, and how the hell was he going to deal with it when the baby was born? He fretfully rubbed his forehead even more at that thought.

"Great," he replied, not really sounding all that thrilled by the idea of her being back. Oh god, he thought to himself. If she was overbearing like this, how much more overbearing was she going to be with a baby? He closed his eyes. Oh god.

At her insistence that he sit, he looked back up and edged his way cautiously to the table. As he pulled the chair out, a moment of defiance hit him and he lifted his cane and slapped it on the table, adjacent to the centrepiece, with a loud clunk. Then he sat down. He peered at his wine glass while she claimed to have never scared away any of Cuddy's boyfriends. Yeah, well. He picked the glass up and took a sip.

Cuddy cutting in a remark about her brothers piqued House's curiosity, despite himself. "Oh, I can assure you - your daughter's told me all sorts of lovely things about you," he said dryly, knowing full well that could earn him one of many warning looks from Cuddy for the night. He sipped his drink again and set it down, sitting back against the chair's back rest.

As Cuddy returned to the room with the steaks, he watched her approach the table, then looked at her mom. Well, now he was trapped at the table with Cuddy's mom, he had to find something to talk about and talking about Cuddy would be the safest subject. Besides, he was curious about what information Cuddy's mom had to offer about Cuddy; stuff Cuddy might not typically share with him. Stuff she didn't want him to know.

"So, you've met all of her boyfriends?" he asked. He hadn't forgotten that her mom mentioned earlier not always knowing what went on in Cuddy's life, and he doubted she had actually met all her boyfriends, but he was curious to know if her mom knew about Cuddy's internet dating. Because he sure as hell knew.

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com 2009-07-04 05:16 pm (UTC)(link)
House's brows perked. No? It took him all of about a second to work out that Cuddy was trying to put a stop to the conversation. So, that seemed to mean her mom didn't know about Cuddy's internet dating. After throwing an innocent-except-not glance at Cuddy, he turned back to her mother, his brows raised even higher. He opened his mouth just as Cuddy cut in and ordered everyone to eat.

He ignored her. "We did meet in college," he agreed. "She dated books more than she dated guys, from what I remember. I didn't know Cuddy as well back then as I do now, though I can happily inform you that she had a pretty active social life before she and I became a thing."

He reached for the pepper. "She had some pretty strange boyfriends. Some of them looked like a mouse. In fact, some of them were a mouse. Two buttons with one ball in the middle, palm-sized, a cord that ran from its ass to a computer outlet..."

He quickly shook some pepper over his meal, then gestured to Cuddy with the shaker. "Did you know she got proposed to once in a restaurant?"

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com 2009-07-04 06:18 pm (UTC)(link)
"Ow!" he hissed under his breath, jerking slightly at the unexpected impact of Cuddy kicking his shin. Well, he'd asked for it. Cuddy wasn't the type to hold back on her displeasure when it came to him. He was almost ready to duck for cover under the weight of her glare when her mother questioned her about the proposal.

Though, what Cuddy said next had him frowning at her incredulously. He'd caught her mutter about him not telling his parents anything and that made him annoyed, but that wasn't what had caught his attention. He hadn't been especially keen on Cuddy telling her parents about him. But that wasn't even the issue, either.

He quickly regained composure in spite of himself and looked back to her mom. "She didn't tell you about me because I don't matter. Pass the salad, please."

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com 2009-07-05 03:22 am (UTC)(link)
Whether or not he knew what Cuddy meant, his objective was to keep Cuddy's mother's attention on Cuddy and so far it was working. He couldn't escape dinner without being hunted down by Cuddy, but he could at least try to escape being interrogated by her mom.

Of course, just as he thought it was working, Cuddy had to pipe up with her incentive of how the evening was supposed to go: with Cuddy's mom interrogating him. With his knife and fork poised in his hands, he glanced between Cuddy and her mother, then gave an uncomfortable snort.

He really wished her mother wouldn't call him that. And he really wished he was back at home, in the comfort of his own living room, far away from having to deal with Cuddy's mother or the fact that he was supposed to try and fit in with her family.

It was beginning to aggravate him, too, that her mother didn't seem easily fazed. He didn't know how to handle her mother liking him in any way. He wasn't actually sure if she did like him, but she sure as hell didn't seem that bothered by him. Which bothered him. A lot.

"Seems to me you should be interrogating your daughter, not me," he replied. "You don't seem to know much about what goes on in her life or about whether she's happy. I'd be breaking out the bright lights and the rubber hoses over that instead of trying to torture information out of a guy you've never even met."

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com 2009-07-05 11:57 am (UTC)(link)
House was content to know he'd diverted Cuddy's mom's attention to Cuddy's state of happiness. Of course she was going to keep trying to find out and if being interrogated about Cuddy was how he was going to be interrogated, then he was okay about that.

Well. Until Cuddy's mom asked him about Cuddy's happiness. He was cutting his steak and had stopped with his knife midway through the meat, staring caught off guard at the dining table's centrepiece. Suddenly, every conversation he could ever remember having with Cuddy - about how he didn't make her happy, all the fights they'd had, all the times he'd caused her cry, those painful times they'd fallen apart under the weight of vicious arguing - flashed through his mind.

His lips twitched and he glanced uncertainly at Cuddy, then dared himself to look over at her mom. He cleared his throat and sat and little straighter. What the hell was he supposed to say? A lie? Yes, of course she's happy. That was a lie of epic proportions. Not that he was opposed to lying. But he had nothing to justify as to why he thought her to be happy. He knew Cuddy was far from happy as a person. She was good at convincing people she was, though, her mother included.

"She's lying just to shut you up," he said to her mom. "She probably does that a lot. Hates the way you pry, so tells you things to placate you rather than because they're actually true. She loves that you care but hates coming across like a failure in any way. And though you're never completely satisfied with the answers she gives, you accept them as answers anyway. Why wouldn't she be happy, after all? Your daughter's successful. She's got a mom who loves her, despite her annoying prying. She's got a big house in a sought-after neighbourhood. She's got lots of money, a powerful job, she's attractive, hard working, a perfectionist. She's got more than what most people have in their lives. She's got everything.

"Everything except that thing called happiness. All the success in the world doesn't actually give you everything you want. It just gives you everything you've achieved. Big difference. She wants to be happy. However, there's a giant gulf lying between what she wants and the way the things are. That's the one thing Cuddy considers to be the biggest failure in her life, though she'll never tell you that. Good thing she has a boyfriend like me, who sees and tells everything like it is."

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