cuddys_house | Evening

Evening

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, which suited House fine. He didn't have that much to do, though. He read the latest supermarket tabloid he picked up from the newspaper stand down in the foyer, he had lunch, he did a few other pointless things to kill time, glad that Cameron was out of his hair and hardly bothered by Foreman or Chase. He did, however, spend the rest of the day with the drapes drawn across the glass wall that overlooked the conference area. Thankfully, no one had really questioned him about this, probably because they just assumed he wanted privacy.

He couldn't help being a bit preoccupied with his meeting with Cuddy, though managed to push it far enough from his mind that he didn't obsess over it. Maybe tonight, she'd just tell him what her issue was and it would be nothing, that she'd just been making a deal about something because she was being premenstrual or something like that. By the time five o'clock hit, House was ready to leave for the day. He packed up his backpack and gathered up his belongings, and headed out of his office, turning the lights off on the way. Once on his bike, he pondered where to go - whether to head home and change, whether to head out to the store to get something to drink for tonight, or whether to head straight to Cuddy's place. After a few minutes of deliberation, he decided he'd just go straight to Cuddy's place.

She wasn't home when he got there; he guessed because she was still finishing up at work. He parked his bike up across the street and headed up the garden path, taking a seat on her front porch at first. Not being the sort of person who could sit still, especially when he was pretty sure Cuddy still kept the key under her pot plant, House got back up a few minutes later to hunt for said key. And sure enough, there it was.

He let himself in, even though he knew Cuddy may not be impressed about him doing so, and after he dumped his belongings in her front hall, he began sleuthing around her house. First, he checked out her kitchen to see what food she had, then he began rummaging around in the cabinets in her dining room, which didn't really reveal that much. So, he moved across to the living room and after he turned on the TV to the news channel, he headed for the bookshelf and perused her book collection. Locating an interesting stack of books at the bottom of the bookshelf, he picked up the top one and made his way back to the couch. He placed it on the coffee table and started flipping through it slowly, studying each page - photographs of Cuddy and her family when she was younger. He was absorbed in a second photo album, photos of Cuddy at some birthday party when she was a teenager, when he heard the front door open.

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It took a while after House finally took himself off in search of someone else to annoy before Cuddy really got settled down and got some work done. She'd been distracted and even sort of restless all morning but for some reason after his visit she was able to calm down a little. She didn't why that was. It was as if his visit had been a sort of shock, and when he was gone she was so relieved she'd managed to not flip out that she was able to focus her mind.

However, she'd still been running behind so it was past five by the time she started to think about getting home. She had a few things she had to finish so she called a little Italian place she liked to order the pizza and a side salad for herself, then simply swung by and picked it up herself on the way home.

She was surprised House's bike wasn't in the driveway when she pulled in. It certainly wasn't like him to work late, not unless he had a patient, but she figured he'd show up when he was ready. In the meantime maybe she'd have a few minutes to herself. She slung her bag over her shoulder and balanced the food in one arm, the keys in her other hand. As soon as she slid the key in the lock she realized House was, in fact, already there. Either that or she'd had a burgler but she was guessing it was House. She really needed to find a new place to hide that key.

She made her way to the entrance to the living room, her hands still full. "I'd say make yourself at home, but obviously you already have." She gave a resigned shake of her head and handed the food to him. She glanced down and saw that he was looking at some of her photos. Well, fine, maybe it would satisfy his curiosity although it would more likely just provoke new questions from him.

"Move that. I don't want pizza grease on the pictures," she said, gesturing at the album as she set her bag on the floor by the end of the couch. She turned to go to the kitchen for plates and napkins, then hesitated. "What would you like to drink? And your choices are water, tea, or milk."

House glanced up over his shoulder at Cuddy as she appeared in the doorway, then turned his attention back to the photo album. "I had to use the bathroom," he replied as he turned the page over. Which was a lie because he didn't use her bathroom after letting himself in. "Don't expect me to sit on the porch, holding my bladder while waiting for you, do you? Unless you want me to water your lawn."

He snorted at a picture of Cuddy in a weird, uncompromising position with her face screwed up in mid-laughter while what he assumed to be a friend of hers, who was also in mid-laughter, was sprawled on top of her on the floor. "And now I'm looking at pictures of you in hot girl on girl action," he commented, not at all seriously. He threw another glance at Cuddy. "So, yeah. Totally made myself at home."

He eyed the pizza she was holding before looking back to the photo album, and he studied the last picture for a moment and then turned the page. "Oh, look, it's Pat Benatar," he said with smug amusement.

The photos had suddenly shifted to a different day and possibly even a different year: pictures of Cuddy in hideous early 80s style clothes with an equally hideous Boy George-style hairdo in terms of size. He quickly did as she asked him, shifting the photo album aside so she could set the pizza down, and then pointed at one of the pictures. "Is the hair on purpose?" he joked.

At her question about what he wanted to drink, however, he looked up at Cuddy, equal parts incredulous and clearly dissatisfied with the limited choice of beverages. He should have stopped by to get some beer or wine after all, though he wasn't really in the mood for alcohol just yet. "Do I look like a kid to you?" he asked about the milk. He squinted at her. "You know I hate tea. And water's boring. Haven't you got coffee?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes at House's excuse for letting himself in. As if he'd ever needed an excuse to go digging through her life. Then again, he probably felt he only did it when he had a reason to dig. The fact that his reasons wouldn't be excusable in anyone else's mind wouldn't bother him. She didn't let it bother her too much either. At this point he'd had access to her home on several occasions. She didn't think there was anything all that exciting left to fine.

"Hey, I'll have you know that hair was the height of fashion," she retorted. Sure, now it seemed ridiculous but at the time it had been very cool. She'd always been very aware of fashion and her appearance and back then, as a teenager, she'd wanted what everyone else wanted--to fit in. So she'd followed the latest trends even when they silly or flat out ugly. Thank god her taste had improved with age.

She froze for a second when House asked for coffee, remembering her reaction to the smell that morning. She couldn't tell him she didn't have coffee, though, because he'd know she was lying. She always had coffee.

"You shouldn't drink caffeine in the evening," she said. She shrugged then, because he'd get suspicious if she made an issue of it. "Fine. I'll put the pot on to brew."

She retreated to the kitchen and tried to figure out how she could avoid being overwhelmed by the smell. She grabbed a couple of plates and handful of napkins first. She poured a glass of milk for herself. She'd normally stick to water but she figured she might as well get used to upping her calcium intake. When she had everything she needed, then and only then did she get the pot ready. She hit the on switch just before she grabbed the supplies and she made a beeline out of the kitchen before the smell of brewing coffee could get too strong.

"Coffee will take a few minutes," she said as she handed him a plate. She sat down on the couch and reached for her salad. She nodded at the photo album. "You're not going to find anything interesting in there. Embarrassing, but not interesting."

House frowned slightly at the way Cuddy seemed to falter when he demanded coffee, though her next rebuke made him roll his eyes. "And so what if I do?" he retorted.

Honestly, Cuddy could be so pedantic sometimes. He was satisfied, however, when Cuddy relented and went off to make him coffee. He reached for the pizza box and flipped the lid open to inspect it. Cuddy had said about getting a healthy pizza, if there was ever any such thing. It had lots of topping - bell peppers, olives, meat, as well as cheese and a few other diced up things spread across it. He began hefting a slice up to start eating now because smelling the pizza made him realise how hungry he was, and once he had the slice balanced carefully in his hand so he could bite from it while flipping through the photo album, he returned to the pictures of Cuddy.

"Embarrassing is interesting," he replied once Cuddy was settled on the couch next to him. His mouth was full of pizza, too, so his words came out distorted and muffled. As he chewed, he pointed to a picture of Cuddy with his pinkie. "Boy George's long lost twin."

He went to take another bite and made a sudden grab for a napkin when he realised he was about to lose a string of cheese globbed up with bell peppers onto the floor. He managed to get the napkin under the slice just in time.

"Or maybe that lead singer from Dead Or Alive. Remember him?" He looked across at Cuddy. "Totally camp dude with massive hair and loads of horrible makeup. Sang about being spun around like a record." He looked back to the photo album as he took another bite. Boy, he was hungry. He'd just about finished the slice already. He could hear in the kitchen the peculator bubbling and then going quiet to signify it was brewed.

"Coffee's done," he announced when he reached for another slice.

Cuddy started on her salad as House resumed poking fun at her pictures. Her past was like catnip to him--he couldn't resist. "Laugh all you want but back then--I was hot."

Having been a typical teenager, her self-esteem had fluctuated. Some days she really had thought she was all that. Other days she'd been more uncertain, which was probably why she'd sometimes tried a little too hard to have the latest look. Still, although she occasionally wished she could reach through those pictures and give her teenage self a shake, she could usually laugh off her youthful fashion faux pas. Besides, she didn't know anyone who didn't have similarly embarrassing pictures lying around.

"You can't tell me you don't have a few scary pictures hidden away somewhere. Maybe some from your disco phase?" she teased. House and disco didn't go together in any reality that made sense, which is what would make it so funny if he ever had had such a phase. And if he had, she desperately hoped there were pictures.

She reached for her glass of milk and drank down about half. She set it back on the table and started to reach for her salad again when she noticed the way he was devouring the pizza. She decided she'd better grab a slice before he ate it all. She'd just slid a slice on her plate when he announced that the coffee had finished brewing.

"Do I look like a waitress?" she asked. The problem was that although she could give him crap about expecting to be served, it was something she'd normally do. It wasn't because of his leg. It was because she'd been raised to be a good hostess. She had to go get the coffee or it would look strange.

She set her plate down and headed for the kitchen. She breathed through her mouth hoping that would be enough to keep the reaction from being too strong. She cracked the window over the sink to let some fresh air in, and hopefully let some of the coffee aroma out. It would've been smarter to have done that before starting the coffee but better late than never. She grabbed a mug from the cupboard, filled it and quickly headed back to the living room.

She found that breathing through her mouth helped but didn't entirely eliminate the problem. It was almost as if she were tasting the aroma and that didn't sit well with her stomach. Worse, she had another dilemma. It was going to be difficult to eat and breath through her mouth at the same time.

Cuddy swallowed hard as she handed the mug to House, then she immediately headed for the other side of the room. "You don't mind if I open a window, do you?"

House pulled a face. "I seemed to miss the disco phase," House replied. Then he added mock seriously, "Somehow. Don't ask me how."

That wasn't to say he hadn't been to discos or similar. There'd been plenty of times he'd gone to a wedding or a function of some sort where he'd been dragged onto the dance floor, and there'd been a few times he'd been dragged out to clubs for the purpose of dancing. And okay, maybe there'd been times he'd actually ended up enjoying himself once he got a few drinks into him, but there was no way in hell he'd ever admit that.

"I owned flares, if that's what you're implying," he admitted after a pause, once he'd turned another page over. "Well, back in the Led Zeppelin hey day." He lifted the pizza to his mouth for another bite. "As for scary pictures, my mom has most of them."

Which was true. He'd never been much of a photographer, not when it came to himself, anyway. He didn't have many pictures of family at home. The photos he did have were mainly of his college days and his travels, or of memories he was particularly fond of. And of Stacy. He even had a couple of phots of Wilson and himself buried away in his apartment somewhere.

"No, but you're the host, if you want to get technical about it," House argued when Cuddy argued about being a waitress. It really wasn't that much of a hassle to get the coffee himself, but she was up and heading out to the kitchen before he could complain further. He took a few more bites of his pizza in Cuddy's absence, feeling fuller as he reached the end of the second slice.

He was reaching for a third slice when Cuddy returned. He looked up at her, extending a hand to take the mug from her and maybe he was imagining it, but she seemed kind of hurried to give him the coffee. Definitely a little hurried to start moving across to the window.

"What, did you put something in this that's going to explode?" he remarked dryly, a little confused by Cuddy's sudden rush across the other side of the room. He took a sip of his coffee, flinching a little at how hot it was. "What do you need to open a window for? It's not like it's hot or smells bad in here."

He shrugged, though, because he didn't really have an issue with her opening the window. But as he took another sip of his coffee, he pulled a face. "You didn't put sugar in this," he said. He stretched the mug back out in her direction to silently say he wanted her to add sugar to it. "You know I like it sweet."

Cuddy wasn't surprised that House didn't have any embarassing pictures. As far as she could tell, he didn't keep many--or any--pictures at all. It was good to know, though, that if she ever needed new blackmail material, Blythe was the one to contact. She wasn't sure Blythe would cooperate but it was still good to know.

"I just feel like having a little fresh air. The house was closed up all weekend," she said as she raised the window a few inches. Then she raised it another inch--just to be sure--before she turned to walk back to the couch. With only one cup of coffee and a breeze coming through the window, she thought the smell would be minimal. She thought she could handle it. That's what she thought until he held his mug out at her as she reached him.

"That's an inconsistency," she said, staring at the mug with some trepidation. She'd swear he was deliberately trying to torture her, except that he had no way of knowing it was torture for her to get him a cup of coffee. There was no reason he would know...except that she occasionally thought he really was evil and somehow this was deliberate. "You hate sweet. You hate sweet stories, sweet songs and especially sweet people. You shouldn't like sweet coffee."

She was babbling. She knew she was babbling. She felt like they were dancing and he was leading, just making up the steps as he went, and she couldn't keep up let alone anticipate his next move. She was scurrying around trying to make it look good but she was getting more and more flustered.

"Fine." She grabbed the mug from his hand and marched back into the kitchen. Unfortunately she forgot to breath through her mouth and the coffee aroma was strong enough to trigger that awful queasiness. Well, screw that. She grabbed the sugar bowl from the counter and carried it back to the living room. She set both the mug and the sugar on the coffee table. "Sweeten all you like."

She glanced down at her plate, ready to take a seat on the couch again. A minute ago she'd been hungry and enjoying her meal. Now...the rolling of her stomach made everything less appealing, especially that greasy cheese congealing on her pizza.

"Excuse me. Bathroom break," she said, turning on her heel and walking briskly toward the bathroom. She was pretty sure she wasn't going to vomit but she had to get away from that smell. She couldn't be held responsible for the results if she didn't.

House expected Cuddy to take his mug without hesitation when she reached him, or at least demand that he sugar his own coffee. So, he was a little uncertain by her reaction when she just stood there, staring at his coffee like it was poison. He darted his eyes between the mug and Cuddy, then peered up at her even more curiously when she started babbling sweet.

"I just like being contrary," he agreed warily. Then he added sarcastically, "Because, really, I'm a sweet and loving guy." Then, just before Cuddy relented, he asked in a slightly bewildered tone, "What, did you booby trap my coffee?"

Cuddy took his coffee, though, and he followed her out of the room with his eyes until she was out of sight. When she came back, he was still staring in her direction, and he followed her with his eyes as she dumped the coffee and sugar on the coffee table. The look on his face was slowly growing suspicious, especially when Cuddy suddenly announced her need to go to the bathroom. And not only that, but made her way briskly there.

Okay. Cuddy was acting very weird. She'd been acting weird in her office today, but it seemed way more pronounced now. Quite frankly, it was making him feel a bit nervous. He looked at the sugar bowl, then down at his coffee before he set the mug on the coffee table. He grabbed up his cane and slowly made his way to the door, where he loitered for a moment as he looked down the direction of the hall to Cuddy's bathroom. Then he hesitantly began his way down towards it.

He stopped at the door and stood there silently, just listening. Normally he'd barge in like it was no big deal, but something about the way Cuddy was behaving was making him feel a bit more cautious of any sudden moves. He lifted his hand and rapped on the door a couple of times with his knuckle. He wasn't even sure what he expected by coming to the bathroom, or what he was even really doing here, except he felt, well, a bit unsettled by Cuddy's behaviour.

"You okay in there?" he called through the door suspiciously.

Cuddy was beginning to wish she had booby trapped House's coffee. A strong sedative, maybe, or a mild hallucinogen--anything that would keep him from noticing or remembering her admittedly odd behavior. The worst of it was the more he noticed, the odder she acted. She was beginning to stress out big time. She might have been better off giving herself a sedative, only she couldn't do that because it was bad for the baby. It was vaguely ironic given that the baby was the reason for the stress.

Fortunately, once she was in the bathroom and away from the coffee smell her stomach settled down within a few moments. Her appetite didn't return but she didn't have that annoying queasy sensation anymore. However, she wasn't ready to return and face either the smell or a plate of food yet. She lowered the lid of the toilet and sat down, elbows propped on her knees and face in her hands.

Maybe she should just tell him. Maybe instead of stressing herself out trying to hide it, she should simply get it out in the open. After all, it wasn't like she was planning to keep it a secret from him for long, no more than...five, six months at most.

She shook her head. She shouldn't even joke about that. Except that joking was the only relief she could get from the stress. And telling him wasn't going to relieve the stress either. She was sure of that. It would only turn it into another kind of stress. All she wanted was to have a day or two to absorb the information herself before she had to deal with him. She was still half in shock and there was no way she could handle him until she got her wits about her.

House's knock on the door startled her. She jerked her head up, half expecting him to crash through the door. She pressed her hand to her chest. Her heart was beating rapidly so she took a couple of deep breaths. "Fine. I'm...fine.... "

Her voice trailed off slightly as she started to get to her feet. Her gaze fell on the wastebasket and the pregnancy test inside. "Oh, shit." She slapped her hand over her mouth, hoping he hadn't heard her. She grabbed the test and looked around for a hiding place House wouldn't go poking through. She opened the cupboard under the sink and grabbed a box of tampons. She shoved the test stick inside and closed it again. She figured he would look under her sink but he probably wouldn't actually snoop around in a box of tampons.

"Just a sec--I'm coming." She quickly washed and dried her hands, then stepped to the door. Just as she turned the knob she remembered that he'd told her he'd used the bathroom before he got home. Somehow she'd gotten lucky and he hadn't noticed the test. Or...had he? The expression on her face as the door opened was a mix of fear and maybe a little hope.

House would've taken Cuddy's 'fine' for face value had it actually sounded like she was fine. He heard the way she hesitated and then trailed off, however. He half wanted to burst in to see if she really was fine, but the other part of him didn't in case he walked in on something... well, he didn't know what he could possibly walk in on.

"Really," he called back skeptically. "So, you're not building a nest or shedding skin in there, or anything," he added dryly and he was about to add more to that when he suddenly heard Cuddy swear. At least, he thought that was what he heard. She'd said it pretty quietly, but he was pretty sure he heard her say 'oh shit'. Which made him lean closer to the door. He rested a hand on the door and turned his head so his ear was almost pressed to the door, too.

He could hear rustling and rummaging. Again, only quiet, but he could still hear it. He tried to think of what it could be, especially with Cuddy cursing. Maybe she'd gotten her period. Maybe she'd gotten blood on her favourite underwear and that rustling was her getting a tampon or a pad. Or maybe she was emptying the wastepaper basket. Or maybe...

He was still wracking his brain when Cuddy announced she'd be out. He heard the tap running, then stepped back from the door, but only a little, when he heard her footfalls approaching. The expression on her face that greeted him when she opened the door was... Well, he didn't know what it was. But he really didn't like it. She looked like she was scared of something.

He studied her face, feeling really suspicious now. He looked over her shoulder into the bathroom, then back at Cuddy. "Interesting bathroom break," he remarked. "Either that was a false alarm, or you peed in the sink." He paused to scrutinise her closely. "You didn't flush."

"I never said I needed to use the toilet," Cuddy said. "And for the record, I wasn't building a nest either."

She only had to look at his face for a moment, see the way he was reacting, to realize that no, he hadn't seen the pregnancy test. That knowledge was both a relief...and a let-down. For a moment there, she'd thought it was possible--just barely--that he'd seen and wasn't freaking out. That reaction was so much better than any scenario she'd imagined that she'd jumped on the possibility despite the fact she knew it wasn't likely. However, nothing had changed. He didn't know and she was stressed about telling him.

"You didn't need to check on me anyway. I've been using the bathroom by myself for years." She tried to put a tone of normalcy in her voice and school her features into a calmer expression. Or at least a less panicked expression. She was exhausted, though, by the effort of trying to keep her behavior what she thought was something close to normal. She'd gotten through their short meeting that morning without too much emotional upset so she'd thought she could handle spending time with him in the evening. As so often happened, she'd thought wrong.

"Come on." She reached for his hand, determined to continue trying to act normally. "The way you were going through that pizza, I can't believe you're done eating."

"So, what did you need to do, then?" He glanced over her shoulder pointedly to make sure there really wasn't a nest... and to see if the bathroom itself would give away any clues as to what she'd been doing in there if she didn't need to use the toilet.

He darted his eyes back to Cuddy, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Hmmm," he mused disbelievingly. "Except most people don't almost run down the hall to the bathroom after giving someone a cup of coffee unless they're busting to pee, have diarrhoea or are about to be sick. You rushed off pretty quickly, so I figured I should check just in case you weren't feeling well. Or in case you really were building a nest, maybe one to lay your eggs in."

He wasn't sure why, but he felt a sudden prickle of dread. He couldn't even explain what that feeling meant or why he'd even feel that, except Cuddy's behaviour - from how she'd behaved this morning, to how she'd been behaving when she got home, especially right now - left him with an inexplicable ominous feeling. Something was definitely, definitely up. He'd never seen Cuddy behave this way, except during situations where she was hiding something from him or had done something she knew he wouldn't like.

He felt very distrusting of her as she took his hand in hers. "I'm not done eating," he replied. "Unless that's your subtle way of saying you're hoping I'll leave soon."

"I'm touched by your concern, but it was a false alarm," Cuddy said when House continued probing for the reason for her sudden trip to the bathroom. It was sort of true; if she hadn't gotten away from that coffee smell, there was no telling what might have happened.

Besides she wanted to say as little as possible. She didn't want to lie to him anymore than necessary, even if it was only temporary. More to the point, the more she said--true or not--the more likely it was he'd guess what was going on. She was slightly surprised he hadn't already--he was disturbingly good at reaching accurate conclusions from very little evidence.

"No subtlety, no hidden agenda," she said as she led him back to the living room. "I simply want you to eat your dinner and not fuss over me."

The open window was doing the trick of keeping the aroma of coffee from his mug very faint. It was tolerable, even, and she sat down on the couch to resume her meal. She looked at her plate with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Just because her stomach had settled didn't mean her appetite had returned. Still, she thought she could manage to eat a little, hopefully enough to keep House from getting more curious.

"Seriously," she said, patting the couch cushion next to her, wanting him to sit, eat, and stop asking questions. "Finish your dinner."

"What kind of false alarm?" House asked, his tone still flatly disbelieving. "I mean, it's pretty weird for urination to be a false alarm, unless you have an issue with your bladder, which I'm pretty sure you don't. Which leaves diarrhoea or vomiting. Diarrhoea usually isn't a false alarm, either. But the urge to vomit..."

He leveled his gaze on her, that weird feeling of dread twisting in him again. He almost didn't want to keep probing because... he really didn't like that Cuddy seemed to be hiding something from him or not telling him something, and he really didn't like this ominous feeling he had. In fact, he wasn't sure he even wanted to know what it was Cuddy was not telling him. On the other hand, he couldn't shake this mistrust he currently had towards her.

He stopped in the doorway and watched Cuddy take her seat on the couch. He eyed the pizza and suddenly decided his dinner didn't seem very appetising; his stomach felt unsettled with mild nerves. He ignored Cuddy's insistence that he sit and finish and food, and leaned his shoulder against the door frame while gazing at her distrustfully once again. Then his eyes dropped to the coffee cup. Then he looked across at the window she'd opened. Then back at Cuddy again. That ominous feeling in him suddenly upped a notch.

He pushed away from the door frame and sidled across to the couch, finally taking a seat next to Cuddy. "Finding your dinner unappetising?" he asked, noticing how unenthusiastic she was being about her food.

He shot her a quick, sharp look, then reached for his coffee. He tipped two spoonfuls of sugar into it, stirred, and lifted the mug to take a sip. He eyed the opened window again and remembered the way Cuddy had scurried down the hall after handing him his coffee and the sugar, and he decided to do an experiment.

Sniffing his coffee, he then stretched the coffee across to Cuddy quickly until it was right under her nose. "This smell all right to you?"

"Just a false alarm as in nothing to worry about," Cuddy insisted. She kept hoping if she ignored or downplayed House's curiosity, he'd do the same. So far it wasn't working very well but she didn't have another plan. She didn't know how to get him to stop asking questions other than telling him the truth and she wasn't ready to do that.

She focused on her meal, ignoring his comment about her appetite. She thought she could probably handle the salad. The pizza was a little more problematic but she thought she could manage a few bites. If House got curious about that, well, he already thought she was very controlling about her diet. She could explain that she wasn't eating because it wasn't healthy or it exceeded her calorie allowance or something like that.

She picked the slice of pizza up just as he shoved his cup under her nose. Because she'd been trying to ignore him, she wasn't at all prepared for his movement and she got a great big sniff of the coffee.

"God!" She dropped the pizza on the plate and slapped her other hand over her mouth as her stomach instantly reacted to the smell. She pushed up from the couch and stumbled a few steps away. She turned back to look at House, her hand over her mouth but her expression was a mix of anger and confusion. Anger because it seemed like he'd deliberately tried to attack her with the coffee, and confused because she didn't know how he could know to attack her that way.

"What the hell are you trying to do?"

House wasn't sure what he expected by shoving the coffee under her nose. Actually, no, that was a lie - he was hoping that he'd be wrong, that she'd just get annoyed at him being obnoxious and invasive but otherwise not react in any other way. But he sure as hell didn't miss the way she slapped her hand over her mouth, and sure as hell didn't the miss the way she not only reacted in anger but actually tried to scramble away from him. Or, more accurately, from the smell of the coffee.

He stared up at her, a mixture of dread and anger and paranoia and a range of other jumbled emotions going through him, but when she demanded to know what was wrong with him, he felt a burst of anger. He slammed the coffee cup down onto the coffee table and instantly pushed himself up.

"What the hell am I trying to do?" he retorted, his voice just below shouting level. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He had a horrible feeling he didn't want to really know the answer to that question, but he was reacting too explosively out of paranoia now to be able to stop himself from confronting Cuddy.

"What is going on, Cuddy?" he demanded angrily.

"There is nothing wrong with me," Cuddy shot back. Pregnancy wasn't 'wrong.' It wasn't an illness or an affliction or a handicap or anything else House would think it was. It might be an accident, but it wasn't wrong.

She turned away and walked to the other side of the room when he demanded to know what was going on. She couldn't lie anymore because he knew. House didn't perform a test unless he already had a hypothesis. He'd shoved that coffee under her nose because he'd guessed what her reaction would be. Because he'd guessed why she'd have that reaction. He knew. He might be refusing to believe what he knew but he knew.

"You couldn't leave it alone, just for a day. I just wanted a day, twenty-four hours, to...to let it sink in." She wiped her hand over her face and turned to face him, an intense sense of dread creeping over her.

"I'm pregnant."

"Something is wrong with you," he shot back. "You've been acting weird all day. And then treating me like I'm stupid, like I'd be too stupid to notice. What's changed since Sunday?"

Deep down, he knew the answer to that question. He knew, but he didn't want to believe it. Just like he didn't want her reaction to him shoving the coffee under her nose to mean what he knew deep down it meant. Just like he didn't want her to confirm his worst nightmare which he knew, deep down, had come true. Even if he'd ignored her behaviour, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from probing until she told him what was going on because he couldn't ignore her behaviour even if he tried.

"To let what sink in?" he demanded. He really hoped she'd say something different. That she had an illness, that she was sick, that she'd done something against the law, anything. Anything except what she then turned around and confirmed a few seconds later.

House stared at her. Simply stared. He felt a horrible, intense wave of dread wash over him, so strong it almost felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, because she'd just confirmed what he'd feared, what he'd been denying to be true even though he knew from the moment Cuddy had rushed off down the hall to the bathroom what the truth was.

In fact, he felt so shocked at what she said that he was speechless for a few moments. He dropped his gaze away from her, staring at nothing in particular with an indescribable look on his face. No. She couldn't be pregnant. Couldn't be. No way. No. He refused to believe it was true even though he knew it was.

He darted his eyes back to her. "Don't be stupid," he snapped viciously.

Cuddy stood in place, hands hanging at her sides, simply waiting. Steeling herself for his explosion. It was what she expected after all. He didn't want kids. She didn't know why--he was good with kids--but he didn't want any of his own. He didn't want her to have any either, at least not while she was with him. And now she was going to have a baby. So was he, whether he liked it or not. She didn't see any way this evening would end happily.

"What?" she said, incredulous. Her eyes widened, then narrowed as she tried to follow his thought process. He'd suspected, he'd gotten proof, and she'd confirmed his suspicion. And now he was refusing to accept the answer. Denial was obviously in full force there.

"I'm a doctor--I know how to diagnose pregnancy," she argued. She shouldn't be arguing. She should agree, pretend it was a joke, and send him away. Only she knew if she agreed then he'd argue with that and she really didn't need any more confusion.

"I'm late, my breasts are tender, I'm fatigued, certain smells make me nauseous. And the test was positive." She threw up her hands. "You have another explanation?"

"Your diagnoses have a tendency to be wrong, if not potentially fatal," House argued back snidely.

If only this particularly diagnosis was wrong, too. If only he'd been able to ignore her behaviour. If only... if only they hadn't had unprotected sex those few times. If only. That thought made him remember the weekend they'd just had and how... fantastic it had been and how he'd told Cuddy he loved her and--

It was like a delayed reaction, how his anger suddenly erupted, as a whole cacophony of thoughts went through his mind and Cuddy started explaining her symptoms and then accusing him. Well, maybe she wasn't really accusing him of anything but he took her challenging question to be an accusation regardless because he was angry and starting to panic and unable to process rationally that Cuddy was pregn--

He couldn't even think about that word. Because he refused to believe it. If he allowed himself to process her words - 'I'm pregnant' - then it would be like he was accepting what she'd said and he didn't want to accept it.

"No, but I wish I did!" he shouted back at her. He rubbed at his forehead frantically, then threw a panicked look around the room before settling his gaze back at Cuddy. "So, what're you going to do about it?"

"Yeah, now's a great time to question my medical skills," Cuddy retorted. If he was going to get angry, she wished he'd stick to the subject at hand and not drag in old arguments. This was stressful enough without having to deflect attacks from all directions.

She flinched when he shouted at her. This was why she'd wanted time, time to prepare herself for his anger. She supposed no amount of time would've really allowed her to prepare. She loved him and any kind of rejection was going to hurt. Rejection of her or of the baby, it was going to hurt. She couldn't protect herself from that.

"What do you mean--what am I going to do about it?" She wrapped her arms around her middle, biting her lip. If he thought she was going to terminate the pregnancy.... She absolutely believed in a woman's right to choose, and there was no choice for her. Accidental or not, this was her baby--hers and his and she was having it. Alone if necessary.

"I'm going to have a baby," she said, her voice much lower and less strident now. Shouting took more energy than she had at the moment. She was very firm, though, when she spoke. "As in I'm going. To have. A baby. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

"What do you think it means?"

House absolutely did not want a child. He certainly did not want to deal with Cuddy having a child - his child - either. He couldn't even handle the fact that she was pregnant, let alone the idea of becoming a father. All he could focus on was his panic and horror at this completely unexpected situation he'd found himself in; unexpected and horrifying and terrifying. There needed to be a way out, surely. This pregnancy couldn't happen. No way.

But as Cuddy spoke, firmly asserted that she was going to have this baby, it hammered home to House the reminder of how much she wanted a child and part of him couldn't bring himself to demand she get it terminated. But the way she turned his question right back on him caused a renewed burst of anger and panic to fire through him.

"So, I have no say in this whatsoever?" he fired back at her. "This is all your choice, is it?"

He began rounding the coffee table, heading towards Cuddy. "This isn't what I signed up for!" he continued, shouting now. "I didn't agree to start a relationship with you, just so you could trap me into becoming a father. Something I told you I never wanted!"

He stopped in front of her, eyeing her with utmost hostility. As far as he was concerned, this was entirely Cuddy's fault. All of it was Cuddy's fault. "Why, what do you want me to do about it?" he asked, his voice quieter but no less nasty. "Not much I can do about it if you've decided entirely on your own what's going to happen. What I want doesn't even matter because you've got what you've always wanted now. So, I suppose you're happy about that. Certainly saved you having to get pregnant the hard way, huh?"

"As far as having it.... Yes, that's my choice."

It was her body and as far as Cuddy was concerned, it absolutely was her choice. Which wasn't much of a choice when it came down to it. She was already past the prime age for reproduction and if she didn't take this chance, she likely would never get another. She wanted a child--something she'd never lied to him about. She couldn't not have it.

However, that didn't mean he had no choices. He could end their relationship. He could refuse to acknowledge paternity. She didn't want him to make those choices but he could.

"I know you didn't want this." She cringed as he approached, and closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to look at him and see such anger in his eyes. She couldn't bear to see all that hate directed at her. She loved him and only a couple of days ago he'd told her he loved her and now everything had changed in a moment. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed and her throat was tight. It hurt to even breathe and she thought that maybe she'd never really known what it was like to have her heart broken before because she'd never felt this kind of pain.

"I didn't trap you. I didn't plan this." She opened her eyes and thrust her chin out in an attempt at looking strong but her lower lip was trembling. Sometimes she could stand up to House, and sometimes she could do a pretty good job of pretending to stand up to him. This time, though, she was doing well to simply remain standing.

"You do have a choice," she said, her voice sounding raw. "I'm not going to try to force you into being a father. I'm not going to try to force you to stay with me. I want that, but it's your choice."

"No, but you wanted this," House exploded when Cuddy insisted she didn't plan it. "You wanted to have a child." His tone turned nasty again. "Boy, you must be so full of glee right now."

He glared at her icily. She looked anything but full of glee, with the way her lower lip was trembling and the devastated look on her face. But House wasn't paying attention to any of that; he was way too focused on freaking out. He started to turn away from Cuddy, rubbing his forehead fretfully as he attempted to sort his thoughts into some kind of coherent order. His mind was simply racing with all sorts of panicked thoughts.

He reeled around to face her again when she said he had a choice, eyes wide and his expression somewhere between astounded and enraged. "So, that's it, is it?" he shot back. "Put up with you having a baby, or get out?"

He'd just been told she was pregnant and she was expecting him to make that choice right then and there? She was laying down an ultimatum? Maybe she wasn't laying down an ultimatum as such, but he was so caught up in reacting rather than thinking things through that he took her response to be an ultimatum.

He started back towards her, pointing at himself in the chest. "I want to be with you because I love you," he said, close to shouting again, "but now I'm supposed to make a choice? I tell you I love you and this is what you throw back at me?!"

He stopped in front of her again, glaring down at her. "So, basically," he continued snidely, "having a baby matters more to you than us. Because you don't want to miss out on your chance. You settled for me because you failed to become a mom, just like you fail at relationships. But now you're becoming a mom, you no longer have to settle. And it's me that has to make a choice because you've got what you wanted because that's all you really care about. Yourself!"

"That's not what I'm saying," Cuddy insisted when House spelled out his choice--put up with a baby or get out. In a way, she guessed that was what she was saying but she wasn't trying to give him an ultimatum. The baby was a fact and maybe his choices were limited but it was still his choice.

If it were her choice she'd make him stay. She'd make him be her partner and their baby's father. It was pointless to even think that way, though. Even if she could make him stay, she'd never be able to make him accept those roles. He'd be resentful and angry and that wouldn't be good for anyone. She wanted him to stay, and she wanted him to stay because he wanted it.

She stood still, flinching under his words as if they were physical blows. He kept flinging accusations at her and while part of her understood that he was simply venting, saying the most hurtful things he could because he was angry and scared, it didn't matter. All she heard was that she'd tricked and betrayed him and she'd never cared about him to begin with.

Slapping him was a knee-jerk reaction. She considered herself a non-violent person but his bitter, hateful words kept pounding against her...and she slapped him.

"Don't ever doubt that I love you. Sometimes I think I love you more than you love yourself so don't ever question it."

Her throat was so tight with emotions she felt like she could hardly squeeze the words out. She was struggling not to break down in tears and the only way to do that was to let some of her own anger out. Anger didn't hurt quite as much.

"And if you want to get all offended at having to make a choice, maybe you should think about the choice you forced on me," she continued. "You knew I wanted a child but you didn't hesitate to insist that I give up that desire to be with you. You didn't care what it meant to me. All you cared about was what you wanted."

House didn't see the slap coming. He didn't anticipate Cuddy to lash out at him physically, so when her palm suddenly cracked loudly against his cheek, causing his head to snap to the side quickly, he felt momentarily stunned. His cheek prickled with heat from the impact of the slap as he darted his gaze back to her.

"Yeah, nothing says love like slapping someone you love across the face," he shot back icily.

He got angry with Cuddy a lot, but he knew he'd never slap her or hit her. He felt, well, hurt that she'd just hit him and not physically. The physical part wasn't what mattered; the fact that she was someone he loved who had just hit him was what did matter. He just continued to glare at her, then abruptly faced away, deciding he was going to leave. He couldn't handle this anymore.

But what she said next had him reeling back to her, again. "I didn't force you!" he argued. "I told you what I wanted, sure, but I didn't force you." He didn't see it as force, anyway, regardless how Cuddy viewed it. He felt a further burst of anger and frustration, which he demonstrated with an outraged show of hands. "What did you expect? To get into a relationship with you, with you hell bent on having a child? Is that what you would've wanted?"

He threw his hands up and turned away from Cuddy. He headed for the door, only stopping by the couch to pick up his cane, then continued on his way to the hall to get his things. He had no clue what any of this meant, what he was even going to do. He felt so lost and confused. His life had just changed in the blink of eye, again, and he was supposed to just make a choice like it was no big deal?

He stopped in the doorway and faced back to Cuddy, just to throw one final parting shot at her. "For the record, regardless how much of an asshole I am, I would never hit someone I love."

"I'm not forcing you anymore than you forced me," Cuddy shouted back. "I'm sure not going to force you to be a father."

House could spin it any way he wanted but it came down the fact that he'd given her what felt like an ultimatum: be with him or try to have a baby. He'd put her in a position of having to choose and since she wanted to be with him, it ended up not being much of a choice.

Sure, he was probably feeling the same way right now, trapped between two bad choices, but she was too deep in her her own anger and pain to care anymore. House hadn't been willing to discuss her desire for a baby. He hadn't even been willing to allow her to talk about her feelings, to sort of grieve over the lost opportunity. He'd wanted the subject closed and never mentioned again and now some unconscious resentment was coming out because she'd needed to deal with it and he'd only gotten angry with her when she tried.

She watched him start to gather his things, obviously intending to leave. She wanted to stop him and yet there was no point in trying to make him stay. Things had degenerated to the point of saying and doing the most hurtful things they could. And it could get worse, a lot worse. Nothing positive could come out of it. Nothing would get resolved.

She took a couple of unsteady steps and sank into the chair in the corner of the room. She felt like he was taking half her heart with him. At that moment she felt like she'd never be whole again and the pain of it made it almost impossible to breathe. The air wheezed in her lungs as she struggled to draw in enough air to even cry properly.

Her head snapped up, though, when, when he offered one final shot. She felt guilty about slapping him...or she would once her emotions had settled down. But that didn't stop her from choking out, "Yes, you would. You have."

It was a completely unfair accusation and she knew that even as she said it. It didn't matter, though. She was too upset to filter what she was saying even when she knew she was just being hateful. She gave a sharp wave of her hand, wanting him gone.

House stared at Cuddy, at her shot right back at him, and he felt his stomach twist sharply at how untrue and unfair and outraged he was that she'd even say such a thing. He had never laid a hand on her, not like that, and he never would, and he felt incredibly hurt - on top of how much he was already hurting - that Cuddy even insinuate that he would, or that he had. It was like getting another slap across the face, except it felt worse in some ways.

"When have I ever--" he began, shouting. He cut off at Cuddy's dismissive wave and he stared at her for another second before deciding it wasn't worth even bothering. It wasn't worth sticking around for any reason whatsoever.

A whole range of hurtful, spiteful things to say back whirled through his head, though. He wasn't the sort of person who could leave an argument without having the last word, didn't matter how cruel and untrue the last word was. "I guess that just confirms that this has all been one big mistake," he replied viciously, gesturing between Cuddy and himself.

He didn't bother to watch her reaction. He turned away from the doorway and moved across to his stuff, shoving on his jacket first before grabbing up his backpack and helmet. Part of him felt vindicated for saying something that he knew would hurt Cuddy to the core, but part of him felt utterly remorseful for saying it at the same time, because saying he and Cuddy were a mistake just drove the hurt further into himself, too. So, really, he didn't feel any better. In fact, he felt worse; angry, bitter, even devastated. He wasn't going to stay to rectify any of it, though - he was way too angry and upset and stubborn to do that.

Once he'd gathered everything, he opened the door and slammed it as hard as he could behind him, and headed straight for his bike. He affixed his cane to it and shoved his helmet on, but when he mounted his bike he didn't start the engine straight away. He stared down at the speedometer and swallowed hard. His chest hurt. It felt like there was a huge gaping hole in it.

He gave himself a shake and revved the engine to life, and once he shifted the bike into gear he roared off down the street.

Cuddy had reached the stage where she just wanted to lash out and hurt House as much as he'd hurt her. She wanted to inflict pain because maybe that would take away some of hers. The only reason she didn't respond to his angry denial was that she still had enough sense to realize that she'd already said enough. If she kept going she was going to say something she couldn't ever take back.

Well, it was that and the fact that his final comment hit her so hard she couldn't have spoken if her life depended on it. When he told her they'd been a mistake, it felt like all the air left her lungs. She could only sit there and stare after him, frozen until the slam of the door jolted through her entire body.

The shock made her draw in a gasp of air into lungs that still felt like they were being squeezed in a vise. Then she drew in another hitching breath and sagged back in the chair, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

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