ext_117805 ([identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] cuddys_house2009-07-13 03:27 am

Thursday 12 April, 2007 thru to Friday 13 April, 2007

"So, how did meeting the Fockers go?"

House was leaning up against the upper balcony railing that overlooked the hospital lobby, gazing down at the hubbub below while he idly toyed with an elastic band between his fingers. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Wilson's voice. "How'd you know I was here?"

"Vultures are pretty hard to miss, especially when they're perched up high, looking like they're staking out their prey." Wilson joined his side, resting his elbows on the railing. He silently observed the lobby with House for a few moments before he looked at him. "You've been up here for over an hour."

"I'm a picky eater."

"Watching Cuddy's office," Wilson added.

"She's eating for two. Which means I have to be extra quick at swooping down for my prey before she snatches it first."

Wilson squinted. "Did you just compare your girlfriend to a vulture?"

"Term of endearment."

"Of course. Only you would think of calling someone you love a 'vulture' as term of endearment."

"Cuddy's always been a vulture."

"She hasn't always been your girlfriend," Wilson pointed out.

"Just because someone changes what they mean to you, doesn't mean they stop being annoying."

"Wow, we're really hitting all the sentimental buttons today," Wilson said dryly. "Terms of endearment and declarations of love. Next you'll be tugging on her hair and spiking her coffee with laxatives as a sign of affection."

He tried to ignore Wilson. He'd been up here for over an hour, like Wilson had said, keeping watch on Cuddy's office. He hadn't actually wanted company, though, and he sighed in annoyance as Wilson continued to talk.

"There are only two reasons you're standing up here. One: you're lovesick and waiting for the moment she comes out of her office so you can declare your love for her like something out of a Shakespearean play. Or, two: you're feeling guilty about something and want to keep tabs on Cuddy because you're pathetic at apologising."

House rolled his eyes. "Why are your observations of me always so dramatic?"

Wilson ignored him. "Seeing you're about as romantic as a sledgehammer to the head, I'm going to go with the latter." Wilson looked at him. "What did you do?"

"None of your business."

"Which is House speak for 'I screwed it up big time'."

"And sometimes, a shovel is just a shovel."

"You're deflecting," Wilson said.

"And you're annoying."

"Only because you did something last night to piss Cuddy off and you're refusing to talk about it."

"Again, with the shovel thing."

Wilson heaved a mildly exasperated sigh. "Fine. Don't tell me how last night went. Just continue to stand on the balcony like an idiot and brood."

House looked back down to the doors that led into Cuddy's office. "Last night went about as well as can be expected," he decided to answer after several moments of silence.

Wilson glanced at him. "So, in other words, you did screw it up big time."

House didn't answer. He wasn't proud of how he'd ended up hurting Cuddy and he didn't want to discuss it any more than he wanted to discuss her mom. He'd had a bad night sleep, too, tossing and turning while thoughts of trying to work out how to make it up to Cuddy tossed and turned in his head. Cuddy's mom's words had rolled around a lot in his mind, too. It had been driven home a couple of times during dinner the fact that Cuddy deserved to be treated well, that her mom hoped he was treating her well. And, well, he was lucky he didn't cop a slap across the face for how he ended up turning the dinner into a nosedive. Making Cuddy out to be a sex-crazed slut, as Cuddy had phrased it, left him feeling irked by his own ability to be disrespect her. Not that disrespect was something he hadn't shown to her before, but being with her, being in love with her, made those less than civilised moments of his stand out so much more to him, in hindsight.

"Look, I don't know what you did," Wilson continued. "I don't think I want to know. But I do know a thing or two about women and I know that making a fuss of them, making them feel special, will grant you almost instant access back into the green. Of course... this is you we're talking about. You'd probably prefer to play with your toys than take Cuddy out for a weekend away somewhere, or..."

House immediately tuned out. Not because he wasn't interested in what Wilson had to say (though, he wasn't really interested, as it happened), but because something Wilson said suddenly reminded him of something. Leaving Wilson in mid-sentence, House suddenly stepped back from the railing and walked briskly around Wilson. "Where you going?" he heard Wilson ask.

"Swooping for prey," was all House absently offered as he approached the elevators and hit the button to summon it to his floor.


Later that afternoon, House gathered the courage together to leave a message on Cuddy's answering machine at home for when she got home from work:

"Hey, it's me. I'm, uh... I'm probably the last person you're interested in hearing from right now. But tomorrow's Friday, which means we're free to see each other. Assuming you want to see me. Assuming you do, I made reservations at a bed and breakfast in Stockton, about forty minutes out of Princeton. Friday night through to Sunday morning. Assuming you don't want to see me..."

He trailed off at that, phone pressed to his ear for a couple of seconds, before he ended the call.

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