cuddys_house | Late Saturday afternoon (October 7)

Late Saturday afternoon (October 7)

Cuddy's forehead wrinkled in a frown as she began running the numbers on the calculator again. After Wilson's unexpected visit that morning, she'd had a quiet and productive day. The refrigerator and the pantry were re-stocked, the dry cleaning had been hung in her closet, and several loads of laundry had been washed, dried, and put away. Now she was seated at the dining room table, her laptop and several thick folders spread out in front of her. A small plate of grapes and slices of cheddar cheese sat to the side; she nibbled at the snack idly, almost unaware she was doing it.

She scowled even deeper as the second set of calculations came up with the same total as the first. Dr. Simpson must be crazy to think that a) she couldn't do the math herself and/or b) that she'd ever approve this kind of expenditure. While she understood why he wanted what he wanted, there was no way the hospital could afford a CT scanner dedicated purely for orthopedics. Although... she made a note to herself to check a few things on Monday. If she could persuade a couple of other departments to pool their resources with orthopedics, finess a little money from the capital improvements fund, sweet talk the hospital architect into thinking creatively, she just might be able to make something work.

She reached for another grape as she shuffled that folder aside and opened a new one. She stopped to glance at her watch. It was just past four o'clock. She had a pot roast with potatos and carrots cooking in the crock pot for dinner. It would be ready any time after five. She didn't know if House was planning to come over, or when, but the pot roast would make tasty leftovers, too, so that wasn't a problem. Since she was making some decent headway on the paperwork that accumulated no matter how hard she worked, she decided to keep working. If she hadn't heard from House by the time supper was ready, she'd give him a call and see what he was up to. Until then.... She grabbed a slice of cheese and began to analyze the next report. She quickly lost track of time.

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After the talk he'd had with Wilson and the evening that followed once Wilson left, House had had a fairly restless night. Not unusually, he didn't sleep too well but by morning when he got out of bed - which was almost midday for him - he'd reached a couple of conclusions in his head. He spent the afternoon that followed on the internet, making a few credit card purchases until, at around 4pm, he realised he not only hadn't eaten but the entire had managed to disappear from him.

He showered, got dressed, pondered eating for all of ten seconds until he decided that he'd have a better chance of finding something edible at Cuddy's place, and then prinited out his receipts. A quick check that he had everything once he folded and pocketed the receipts, he locked up his apartment and got on his bike to head to Cuddy's place.

It was close to 5pm by the time he rolled into her driveway. It had started to rain, too, so he was not only hungry and a bit cold, but also wet. Once his bike was parked up, he made his way quickly up the path to her door and bashed on it impatiently: he could smell food cooking and he was starving, and he wanted to get dry.

"When do I get a key?" he complained, shaking off the rain, when she opened the door. He pointed down to the potplant. "Apart from the one under there."

Cuddy had gotten lost in the labyrinth of regulatory requirements--honestly, she sometimes wondered if there was anything the government didn't think they needed to know--and she literally jumped when she heard the knock on the door. She slipped off her reading glasses and hurried from the dining room to the front door.

"Hi...when did it start raining?" She hadn't even noticed. She hadn't looked up from her work long enough to glance out the window. She scowled and turned away from House as he stepped in and shook water all over the entryway like a wet dog. When he was done she leaned in for a quick, and slightly damp, kiss.

She glanced down at the potted plant, head tilted in curiosity. Having a key seemed like the sort of commitment type thing House usually avoided. But then, this whole relationship had been the sort of commitment he usually avoided. And if he really wanted a key, she wasn't going to hold back. There wouldn't be any point really. If he wanted in, he'd get in whether she gave him a key or not.

"Here." She stepped out the door just far enough to reach around to the back of the light fixture just beside the door. She pulled a small, magnetic box from the back of th fixture and stepped back inside, closing the door against the rain. She opened the box and pulled one of her other spare keys out.

"It's all yours," she said, holding out the key to him.

"Since the last time you paid any attention to what was happening outside," House replied, mussing his hair with his hand to shake off the residue of rain. He returned the light kiss, then resumed shaking the rain away from his hair and his jacket, once he took it off. He'd arrived at her door just in time, too, because the rain had begun to fall a little heavier.

"What're you making?" he asked. The food smelled really good. In fact, he was about to make a beeline inside to check out what she had cooking, when Cuddy reached for something outside her door. He set his helmet and jacket down, then turned to her with a curious look when she presented him with a small key box. He raised his brows when he realised what it was. He didn't think she'd take him seriously because he partly hadn't been serious. Also, just the fact that she was willing to trust him with a key...

"Thanks," he replied suspiciously as he took the key. "I think."

He looked at the key, then at Cuddy, almost expecting there to be a catch. He turned the key over a few times between is fingers, studying Cuddy, and when he realised there really wasn't a catch he slowly pulled his keys out from his pocket and began to work Cuddy's house key onto the keyring.

"That was easy," he added, almost as an afterthought. He pocketed his keys again and eyed Cuddy for another moment, still suspicious. After another moment, he eased off and returned his attention to the awesome smell that was wafting from the kitchen.

"So, what're you cooking?" he asked again as he headed through to the kitchen. He stopped by the table along the way, noticing all the paperwork strewn across it. Of course, being the incredibly nosy, inconsiderate person he was, he immediately began sifting through the files as if it was his business. "This is what you've been doing all day?" he asked, not at all surprised that Cuddy really would spend her Saturday doing paperwork, but incredulous nonetheless.

Cuddy watched, curious, as House took the key from her. She half expected him to find an excuse for not taking it. She expected him to say he'd been joking about wanting a key, which might actually be the truth. It didn't really matter whether he'd been serious or not, though. She didn't mind giving him one, and yeah, that was partly because she knew he'd find a way to get into the house if he wanted in. Mostly, though, it was because she loved him, because he was the father of her baby, and she wanted him to consider her home as his.

Her eyes widened slightly as he took the key and added it to his keyring. He was obviously a little suspicious but he'd taken it. She was curious now to see if he'd actually use it. She was also curious as to whether he'd ever give her a key to his place. She didn't think he would, not any time soon, because he'd probably find that far more 'threatening.' It was hard to not feel a little hurt but she also knew she had to take progress where she could find it, and House taking her key was progress.

"Pot roast," she told him when he asked what was cooking. She smiled and shook her head as he made a beeline for the kitchen. "And I'm guessing you're hungry?"

She followed him through the dining room, stepping around him when he got distracted by the work she had piled on the table. She began to stack the papers together, pulling one file from his hand, so she could clear the table off for supper.

"This isn't all I did. I also went grocery shopping and did laundry." She knew he'd be real impressed by her exciting Saturday but she didn't care. Those tasks had to be done and she was happy to have gotten them out of the way, for the moment anyway. She nodded at the vase of flowers on the center of the table. "Oh, and Wilson stopped by."

"You bet," House replied to Cuddy's question about if he was hungry. He spent a moment perusing another file before Cuddy could take it from him, then added, "Only just got up."

Which was a lie. But he was hungry and that wasn't a lie. In fact, just as Cuddy began stacking the files together, his stomach growled loudly. He pressed his hand to his stomach and grimaced slightly at the hunger pain. He went to reach for another file to look at then but Cuddy beat him to it while she informed him of what else she'd done during the day.

He pulled a mock look of excitement. "Wow," he said with pretend awe. "So, I've missed out on an exciting day. What a shame."

Just about to continue through to the kitchen, seeing that was where he'd been heading in the first place, he stopped in his tracks and reeled around to Cuddy, then looked over at the vase, when she said Wilson had stopped by. In a rush of memories, the night before flashed through his mind: yelling at Wilson, kicking the coffee table, ending up in an unexpected D&M with him in the kitchen.

House darted his eyes back to Cuddy after studying the flowers for a couple of seconds. He was itching to know what Wilson might have told Cuddy. He hoped Wilson didn't say too much because, well, he'd confided in him. "Yeah," he replied, eyeing the flowers again a little suspiciously. "He stopped by my place last night, too. Didn't bring me flowers, though."

Typical Wilson to offer flowers as an apology. "Nice touch," House added dryly, then faced away to head into the kitchen. "Especially seeing he didn't seem to think he was being a manipulative asshole." He moved straight across to the pot roast, leaving his cane standing against one of the cupboards along the way. "This'll be ready when?"

Cuddy let out a little snort when House said he'd just gotten up. She doubted he'd been lying in bed all day. He wasn't a very restful sleeper, something she'd learned since getting involved with him. She couldn't see him spending long stretches in bed, although she could believe he might've taken a nap if he'd had a restless night.

"When he showed up with flowers, I figured he'd talked to you. Which is exactly what I tried to make him do without him knowing I was trying to manipulate him." She, too, realized that Wilson didn't think he'd been manipulative, and she also realized that he truly believed it. She didn't like Wilson's methods but she had to accept that he thought he was doing good.

"I just have to serve it," she said, nudging him away from the crock pot. She pulled a small serving platter from the back of an upper cupboard, and then had to rinse a fine layer of dust from the surface. Well, she hadn't done the kind of cooking that required a serving dish for some time. She certainly didn't when she was only cooking for herself, and she hadn't had a dinner party since...well, since before House got shot. She hadn't felt much like entertaining after that.

"So how bad did you make him feel?" she asked as she transfered the roast to the platter. She glanced over her shoulder at him as she began to scoop the potatoes and carrots out. Wilson thought he and House had ended up having a good talk, but she wondered how House saw it. "I assume you must've made him feel somewhat guilty or he wouldn't have brought me flowers as a peace offering."

"When he showed up without flowers, I figured he'd talked to you," House said.

Come to think of it, he'd never actually found out how Wilson had talked to Cuddy or what had been said. He'd intended to find that part out... and never seemed to get around to it because the whole conversation took a turn he didn't expect it to. He stepped aside while Cuddy fetched the plates, though grabbed up a spoon from the sink and dipped it into the pot to try some. Of course, it was boiling hot, which made him hiss in mild pain as it burned his tongue.

He was too busy fanning at his mouth for a moment to answer Cuddy's question. "I don't know," he replied dismissively. "Bad enough, I suppose. Served him right, too."

While he had reached a truce with Wilson, House was still annoyed with him a little. House didn't give up grudges easily. Not to mention that he'd ended up confessing more to Wilson than he'd intended to, too. Such as the fact that he loved Cuddy. And the way Wilson had pointed out that House had been upset on Cuddy's behalf.

Even before Cuddy could set the second bowl of pot roast down, House was lunging towards it with one hand, spoon in the other ready to dig in. "He only agreed to the peace offering because I told him to do it." That wasn't really the whole truth but it was near enough to it.

"I gave him quite the sob story about how you'd washed your hands of me and the baby. Even managed a few tears. I figured that would be enough to send him running to you."

She found it interesting that House didn't brag about how he'd ripped Wilson to shreds. Usually he took a perverse pride in his ability to psychologically wound his opponents. In fact, his dismissive attitude made her think Wilson had been telling the truth--that they'd had a bit of a go round but had eventually started talking to each other. She was glad of that. Even if she'd still been angry at Wilson, she didn't want the two of them at odds, and certainly not over her. House didn't have many people he trusted and could depend on. She didn't want him to lose his best friend.

"Hey," she said sharply, slapping his hand away. "Pretend you have manners."

It was difficult enough to serve up the steaming hot food without him hovering like a buzzard over roadkill. She pulled a little frown because that image wasn't very flattering...to her cooking. She gave him his dish and gave him a gentle push in the direction of the dining room. She followed a moment later, her portion significantly smaller than his.

"What do you want to drink?" she asked as she turned to go back to the kitchen to pour her daily dose of milk.

Cuddy's sob story definitely had been enough to send Wilson running to him. In regards to the baby, however... Well, House didn't want to think about it.

In fact, Wilson had caused him to think a lot more about it, which House really didn't like. Part of the reason why he'd been so restless last night was because he'd found himself thinking about the baby and the way he'd accidentally called it 'his kid', and the point Wilson had brought up about abandoning the kid. House found it way too confronting, to the point where a couple of times during his mulling over everything he almost started to feel a bit protective of this kid. Which was not the kind of feelings he wanted to start having towards it. No way. If anything, it made him more determined to take a vacation like he'd suggested.

Settling down at the table with his food, he shovelled his spoon into the bowl, glancing up at Cuddy. "Beer," he replied. "Soda. Juice. Whatever you have that's cold."

He lifted the spoon up and watched the steam curling into the air from it, and blew on the food a few times before he tentatively tasted it. He blew on it a few more times because it was too hot to eat, looking at Cuddy in acknolwedgement when she set a drink down in front of him. For a few minutes he just concentrated on eating - or trying to eat, given how hot the food still was.

"Oh, by the way," he began casually, putting the spoon down as he reached for his drink. "Next Saturday onwards - better keep the next three and a half weeks free. We're going to Europe."

Cuddy set a glass of cola in front of House and then settled into her seat. The small plate of grapes and cheese was still sitting on the table so she grabbed a couple of grapes to eat while she gave her food a moment to cool. Either House really was that hungry or he simply had no restraint because he kept trying to eat despite the fact the food was obviously too hot.

After a moment of watching him burn his tongue, she began to eat her own meal, taking small bites she could cool off easily. She dropped her silverware with a clatter, though, when he oh-so-casually announced they were going to Europe. She stared at him in disbelief, and for a moment a thrill ran through her. Europe for god's sake. She'd wanted to go to Europe since...she couldn't remember when. Since always. And the thought of being able to experience it with House....

Then her practical, responsible side kicked in.

"Are you nuts?" Which was pretty much a rhetorical question since the answer was obviously 'yes.' She gave an agitated wave of her hand. "I can't just pick up and leave. For a month. I have work--lots of work. And I told you I have that bar mitzvah to go to later this month. I have an appointment with my obstetrician a week from Tuesday. I want to go see my parents. Why...?" Her voice trailed off; she was almost too stunned to think clearly. "I told you I need some advance warning before I take a vacation."

House kind of expected Cuddy to be at least a little taken by surprise. e just sipped his drink, however, like it was no big deal while she fumbled around with her cutlery and stared at him. And then of course, she had to then bring his sanity into question. He just rolled his eyes at her rhetorical demand to know if he was nuts.

"Well, I do have two of them between my legs," he replied in a smartass tone. "You are what you endow. So, maybe I am. Nuts, that is. And big. And impressive."

All the while he spoke, he could see Cuddy was clearly not impressed with his choice of plans; he just shrugged as he sipped his drink, like it was no big deal while she rambled on about her social and work committments.

"I gave you advance warning the other night," he said, dismissive. And in his mind, that had been all the advance warning Cuddy needed. He set the drink down and looked at Cuddy, using his fingers to tick off the points he then made:

"Going to Europe is way more interesting than watching some pimply teenager read from the Torah. If it means that much to you, watch the home video the parents will no doubt make when you get back. You can bore them to death in return with your own European vacation slide show."

He ticked off another finger. "As for your parents, they're still going to be here when you get back. You could make them a souvenir t-shirt: 'My daughter went to Europe and all I got was news that I'm going to be a grandparent'."

He ticked off a third finger. "Your work will still be here when you get back. So will your hospital. So will your staff. So will everything else that's part of your boring, humdrum life. You can pick up and leave. You just don't want to because you have this thing about sticking to routine and thinking you can't step outside the square when it comes to yourself."

As for the obstetrician... He conveniently ignored that part. "You said you always wanted to travel more. And now you have the chance. With me. You also said you never travelled because you never had anyone to travel with. And now you do. Me."

He waved both hands, another dismissive gesture, before he picked up his spoon. "Besides, you haven't got a choice. I've paid for everything, car rental included." Then, just to annoy Cuddy, he added, "If you really don't want to go, I'll just find some hot, young chick to take along with me instead. That shouldn't be too hard."

There was nothing Cuddy wanted more than to travel. Well, a baby but after that.... She wanted to see castles and palaces and hear people speaking in beautiful, incomprehensible languages and she wanted to see how far she could get with her high school French and she wanted to walk on ancient streets and indulge in native foods and she wanted to do it all with someone she loved.

But she wanted to be able to enjoy the trip and not spend it sleeping or puking. So far the first trimester symptoms hadn't been too severe but there was no guarantee it would stay that way, and even now some days were worse than others. She still had a ways to go before she could hope to put things like morning sickness behind her. One thing was for certain and that was that she wasn't going anywhere until she had at least one prenatal doctor's visit under her belt.

"I know you think I'm a hack as a doctor and you think my work as Dean is pointless, but you could at least pretend to understand that my 'boring, humdrum' life is important to me."

If House thought he was being persuasive by belittling the things that mattered to her, then he wasn't nearly as smart as he thought he was. It only made her wonder--again--why he was with her in the first place if he thought she was so boring. It certainly didn't make her feel like spending three weeks in his constant company. Especially when he seemed just as happy to take someone else, someone younger and prettier and not pregnant. Yeah, she knew he only said that to goad her but it hurt, damn him.

"Fine. I hope you both have a lovely time. And when you're done running away from the things you don't want to face, I'll be right here. Being boring and humdrum." Really, that was as much a reason she was wary about taking a trip as her concerns about her responsibilities. She was worried he was only using the trip as a distraction, a way to avoid dealing with the baby, his PTSD, everything. It wouldn't work and frankly, she didn't want to help him hide from his problems.

"You'll have to excuse me." Her face was pale but her eyes were dry as she started to push back from the table. "But I've lost my appetite."

House stared at Cuddy, incredulous. He wasn't sure how he and Cuddy often seemed to be on completely different wavelengths when it came to communicating, but it appeared they were doing exactly that right now. He hadn't said anything about her job being pointless and had no idea where Cuddy had gotten the idea that was what he meant.

He also didn't get why she was suddenly being so sensitive and/or defensive about him 'taking someone else' when she should know that he was joking. More to the point, he was not running away from his issues. He was just... avoiding some issues. For now. There was nothing wrong with that, he asserted firmly in his head.

"Over what?" he argued, holding his hands out cluelessly as Cuddy pushed her plate away to demonstrate she'd lost her appetite. "Over a vacation?"

He shook his head with a highly irritated sigh and decided to just return to his meal, seeing Cuddy was deciding to be all ridiculously sensitive, but just as he scooped some food up he changed his mind. He dropped the spoon back to the bowl and squared Cuddy with an impatient, annoyed look.

"I'm not running away from anything," he snapped. "And I never said your life, boring and humdrum or not, wasn't important. But we are important, too." To stress his point, he gestured between Cuddy and himself. "Us. You and me. It ever occur to you that this is your last chance to do anything for yourself or with me? Because in less than nine months time, you'll have missed the chance completely."

A thought suddenly occurred to him, then. He dropped his hand back to the table and leaned forward a little, giving her an accusing look. "Why does your boring, humdrum life matter more than us? You want a life with me but the moment I try to do something for us, you get pissy. So, basically, you want a life with me, so long as it's on your terms."

He threw his hands up and sat back, his own appetite stunted now, too, because in a matter of a few seconds Cuddy had managed to work up into anger. "Well, excuse me for giving a crap about you," he said as he stood up. "I'll make an extra special effort not to listen to your dreams and goals next time they come up in conversation."

To be spiteful, he added, "And seeing you don't seem to care if I take someone else with me, I'll take Cameron instead. I'm sure she'll jump at the opportunity to go on a romantic vacation to Europe with me."

"You call my life boring and humdrum and I'm supposed to think you see it as important?" Cuddy shot back. "You talk about how I could leave on a moment's notice and no one would care. No one would even notice I'm gone. How does that translate as my life having any kind of meaning?"

She'd pushed her chair back but she was still seated. She put her hands up over her face and god, she'd developed a deeper level of sympathy for people who suffered with bipolar disorder because these moods swings sucked. She couldn't even tell if or when she was being unreasonable. Would most women simply jump at the chance to run off to Europe and not care about the rest? Maybe some women would but Cuddy suspected most would react like she had: a moment of excitement followed by a recognition of the realities involved. The boring and humdrum realities.

"My boring, humdrum life isn't more important than us, but it's important. It's all I've had until you came along."

And it's all she would have when he left, although she didn't voice that thought. It was there, though, because she still wasn't sure where this relationship was going to end up. The bottom line was that if he couldn't accept the baby, it wouldn't matter how much he loved her--he'd still be gone and all she'd have was her boring life.

"Don't pretend this is all about me," she said, shaking her head angrily as she dropped her hands to her lap and looked at House. Sure, maybe he thought he was making a romantic gesture but that wasn't the whole story. "You're doing this for the same reason you do everything--you had a whim. Running around Europe sounds more fun than staying here and dealing with your PTSD or the fact you're going to be a father.

"If you'd been thinking about me, you would've talked to me so we could work out a schedule that would allow me go without worrying about whether I've taken care of everything here. If you'd been thinking of me, you would've considered that traveling while nauseated twenty-four hours a day might not be the best idea."

And if she were thinking of him...? As far as she was concerned, she did think of him. She thought she was making decisions that would be good for him as well herself even if it wasn't what he wanted. She could be wrong, though. She could be raining all over his parade for no good reason. It's who she was, though, and that wasn't going to change.

"I don't want you going anywhere with anyone but me," she said, her voice choked up at the very thought. She knew he'd never go anywhere with Cameron, and if--out of sheer cussedness-- he did, he'd end up slitting his own wrists to get away from her. But Cameron wasn't the only woman out there who'd jump at the chance. "I don't want you to want to go anywhere with anyone but me, but I don't know how to make you feel that way. Maybe I can't. Maybe...I'm not the person you need."

"Oh, god," House scoffed, almost shouting, in a disgusted tone at Cuddy's interpretation of this vacation meaning her life had no meaning to him. How the hell had she come to that conclusion? He barely had time to argue or even work out what on earth was going on in her head to reach that kind of assumption because she moved straight onto touchier subjects. Such as the baby. And him having PTSD.

"Of course it sounds more fun," he exploded over the top of her. He still couldn't get of a word in edgewise, though, while she continued talked, and he slammed his drink down angrily onto the table. Cola sloshed over the tablecloth, which he paid little heed to.

He then turned back to Cuddy and threw his hands out at her in an aggressive gesture. "Yeah, I had a whim," he continued in a loud, angry tone. "One that included you. Because, believe it or not, I was thinking about you. But you don't see it that way because you never see it that way. You think everything I do is some kind of ploy, some kind of trick to hurt you or upset you. It's like you're expecting me to ditch you and every move I make is some kind of proof to that."

He reached his hands up to the sides of his head with a frustrated, angry sound when she said she didn't want him going anywhere without her. He stated to pace away, getting way too worked up at his stupid this was, until Cuddy dropped a huge insecurity bomb that made him reel back around and stare at her, equal parts bewildered and furious.

"I need you," he fired back at her, viciously stabbing himself on the chest with his finger. "I need you. I need you in my life. You have no idea how important you are to me."

This whole unexpected fight just resurfaced all of his insecurites that their last big fight had stirred up. That night he'd come around to make amends, he'd voiced the concern that he couldn't be what she needed. He'd voiced those same worries to Wilson. And now she was using that very same thing right back on him.

"Maybe I'm not the person you need," he continued. He was horrified to hear a tightness in his voice but was too far swept up in emotion to stop himself from saying what was really on his mind. "Seeing I can't do anything right. Seeing I can't even make you happy. I probably never will make you happy. Especially seeing I'll make a useless father. Crippled, almost fifty, probably no more than ten more years life expectancy."

It was like he was unconsciously voicing the very same kind of reinforcement his father laid on him. "I get what you're saying," he said scornfully. "I'm not good enough. I'll never be good enough, doesn't matter how hard I try. Because I'm a selfish, arrogant bastard who thinks about no one but myself, not even the woman I love. That's what you want to hear, isn't it? Because that's obviously my whole motivation for wanting to take you to Europe."

Cuddy didn't think everything he did was a trick to hurt her. Sometimes she thought he just didn't think enough about her to care how the things he said or did would affect her. He was right about one thing, though; she had no idea how much he needed her. He needed someone, certainly, to keep him employed and out of trouble and feed him and write his prescriptions and even hold him when the nightmares were bad. He needed someone to do those things, but that didn't mean he needed her.

She wiped her hand over her face and pinched the bridge of her nose trying to ease the awful pressure building in her head. She was being pathetic and she knew it. She always ended up being pathetic and the man always ended up leaving her. She didn't know if being pathetic was the cause or the effect and she wasn't sure it mattered. Maybe the whole problem was that she wanted more than she deserved. Maybe she should've settled for the dentist from Trenton--or was it the accountant from Newark? If her life was as boring as House thought it was, maybe she should've settled for a boring man.

"No, you stupid bastard, you don't get what I'm saying," she retorted harshly, frustrated that he was turning her words around in ways she'd never intended. "I've never thought you weren't good enough. I know you're capable of making me happy. I know you're capable of being a good father. The only person who thinks you're not good enough is you."

She wiped at her eyes, which didn't seem to do a bit of good. Her eyes filled right back up with tears and the pressure in her forehead was nearly enough to make her sick. She walked to House and reached for his hand, clasping it between hers. "What I'm saying is I want you to be happy. I've always wanted that for you." She bent her head to kiss his knuckles, her chest hitching as she struggled to control her emotions. Her voice was thick with unshed tears, though, when she spoke again. "I want to be the one to make you happy, but all I ever seem to do is make you angry."

"So, I'm a stupid bastard now, am I?" House retorted just as harshly.

Maybe he was being stupid, though. He was definitely being emotional, if the horrible, tight feeling in his chest was anything to go by. Getting emotional was definitely stupid. "I'm capable of making you happy," he echoed out in an accusing tone. "Meaning I don't. Meaning I never have."

It was even more stupid that hearing himself say that aloud hurt. What did he expect, really? Of course he wasn't capable of making her happy. The cynical side of him that was convinced Cuddy would eventually leave kept holding onto that so called truth as though it would eventually become proof that he was right all along. Regardless, it still hurt.

He felt whiplashed, too. One minute he'd been telling her they were going to Europe and a big part of him had expected her to be thrilled by the news. And the next, they were fighting again. And this fight was rapidly reminding him more and more of their last fight and the horrible way it had ended with Cuddy striking him across the face and him declaring that they were finished. He had an awful panicky feeling that this fight was going to end the same way.

In fact, when Cuddy approached him he almost expected her to slap his face when she reached out to him, so he was extremely guarded as she took his hand. It didn't help that she was more or less crying. House didn't like to admit it, but hearing Cuddy cry always affected him.

"You don't make me angry, you make me frustrated," he exploded back at her. "You're always getting angry with me. You insist on bringing up stuff that I don't want to deal with, then act surprised when I get annoyed. It's like you want to remind me that I'm screwed up, that I'm not good enough for you." He yanked his hand from hers. "I wanted to take you to Europe because..."

He trailed off, glaring down at her, then threw his hands up as he started to turn away to leave the room. "It doesn't matter what I wanted. You're getting a baby like you wanted and that's all that matters. That's all that's ever mattered."

"I keep bringing those things up because they won't go away while you're ignoring them. I bring them up because I want you to get better. I want you to not have to deal with those things anymore."

Cuddy flinched away when House yelled and jerked his hand away. She stumbled slightly as she stepped back a couple of steps. She wasn't afraid he'd lose control and hit her; that would only happen if he was in the grip of a nightmare. Still, every word he threw at her felt like a physical blow. Her heart clenched with every accusation and god it was the same damn accusations.

The worst, though, was that he obviously still thought she'd deliberately gotten pregnant, that all she cared about was the baby. Obviously it was extremely important to her and she'd never pretended it wasn't, but it wasn't all she cared about. It had never been all she cared about but he didn't seem to understand that she wanted everything, not just a baby or just a relationship but both. She wasn't sure he understood that she could love both him and a baby.

She reached blindly behind her, grabbing the edge of the table for support, and for guidance because she could barely see. She closed her eyes tightly which made the tears spill over but at least she could see a little when she opened them again.

"You don't believe I love you, do you? You never have believed it," she asked, and she didn't know which made her sadder: the possibility that he didn't believe or trust her or the possibility that he simply couldn't accept love from anyone. "Is is just me? Or do you believe no one can love you?"

House was going to... well, he didn't know what he was going to do. Go into the living room. Or maybe just leave, go back home. He made it no further than the door, however, because of what Cuddy said next. he slowed and then stopped and loitered in the doorway for a moment before he half turned to look back at her.

He stared at her, then looked down. He wasn't sure what he believed. Sometimes he felt so insecure he was positive Cuddy didn't love him. And other times, he felt just as positive that she loved him with everything she had. Sometimes he didn't even know how to handle the idea of her loving him. Of anyone loving him. Being in a relationship, put bluntly, scared him. Terrified him. He thought that maybe by now he would've gotten used to the idea but, no, he hadn't. Not fully.

"Who would want to?" he replied sharply. And that was obviously a rhetorical question because Cuddy did. She loved him. He just had a hard time accepting it. He sighed, trying to get his anger and all his other emotions under control, then looked back up to Cuddy and realised she was crying. Once again he found himself affected by that. Hurt. Ashamed. Annoyed. Wanting to soothe her. Something. He just lifted a hand and rubbed it across his forehead as he bowed his head again before running his hand down over his face and across his chin.

"I'm scared of losing you," he admitted after a pregnant pause. "Sometimes I think..." He ran his fingers across his lips fretfully. "Sometimes I think if I don't let you get too close, it won't hurt so much the day you decide to leave. If you decide to."

He dropped his hand away and dared a quick glance at Cuddy, then turned his head away. He had a few more things he wanted to say, but his throat was growing tight and he was blinking a little furiously because his eyes were burning. He didn't want Cuddy to see how much this actually affected him, so he turned away from her completely so his back was towards her and just peered in the direction of the hallway as he struggled to get himself back under control.

"I would. I do," Cuddy said when House asked who'd want to love him. In a way she understood how he felt. After so many failed relationships she'd gotten to the point where she, too, wondered if there was anything worth loving about herself. The only difference was that she was fundamentally more optimistic than he was. She kept trying where he'd essentially given up.

She rubbed her hand roughly over her eyes as he turned away. Her first few steps toward him were hesitant but she kept walking until she could place her hands on the small of his back. When he didn't immediately pull away she slid her hands around and wrapped her arms around his waist. She let her head drop forward, resting her forehead against his spine.

"You're afraid I'll leave so you push me away. And pushing me away makes it more likely I'll leave. And if I leave that will prove you were right to push me away," she said quietly. She even understood that. She didn't sabotage herself as deliberately as he did but she probably did things to undermine her relationships. She'd probably been doing those things to her relationship with House. She had to stop doing those things, and so did he, because heaven knew they had enough problems without creating new ones.

"There's just one tiny flaw in your plan--I'm not leaving."

House stiffened when Cuddy touched him. He pressed his lips into a tight line and steeled his face into a firm expression as Cuddy wrapped her arms around him, clamping down hard on the stupid emotions that were threatening to spill over.

No, he wanted to say as Cuddy analysed his thoughts and motives. Except... she was right. And damn her for knowing him as well as she did. He decided not to say anything, just remained quiet until she said she wasn't leaving. "Stacy said the samr thing," he murmured flatly.

She had, too. Stacy had said she wasn't leaving early on in his rehab, that she'd never leave him despite what had happened, but within six months she changed her mind and she was gone. Part of him had wanted her gone from his life because so much had changed. Another part of him had wanted her to stay because he'd still loved her, and it had hurt badly when she left. He liked to think he was way past any of that by now, but on some levels he wasn't. Perhaps if he was over it, he wouldn't be so fearful of Cuddy leaving him the same way Stacy had.

After a few minutes of just standing on the one spot with Cuddy holding him, he turned slowly with a quiet, relenting sigh until he was facing her. These stupid fights he haf with Cuddy always hurt because of the things that were said and the insecurities their fights always raised in him. He didn't meet her eyes, but he did lift a hand to her upper arm and lightly touched it. He wasn't realy sure what to say because what more could be said that hadn't been said - or shouted - already? It seemed like they just went over the same argument again and again without reaching any kind of conclusion or resolution. He wasn't good at apologies, either, or admitting that he was wrong, even when he knew he was wrong. In this instance, he wasn't sure who was wrong. Maybe he and Cuddy both had it wrong. Either way, he felt pretty useless, just standing there in silence and awkwardly caressing Cuddy's arm.

"I do need you," he finally said, his voice now quiet and subdued. He paused while a whole range of other things to say rapid fired through his head. He just resorted to sighing in quiet frustration before lifting his hand from Cuddy's arm to reach around her and he drew her into a one-armed embrace with his chin resting on top of her head.

"I'm not Stacy," Cuddy murmured. Other than the fact that she and Stacy were both ambitious, intelligent career women with a high tolerance for a certain jerk, they had nothing in common. And that was both good and bad as far as Cuddy was concerned. It was good because she hoped the differences would mean she and House would last where Stacy and House hadn't. It was bad because she was fairly certain he would never love anyone the way he'd loved Stacy and that meant Cuddy would always be second best.

She bit her lower lip and refused to contemplate that thought any further. Her psyche was battered enough, and the bottom line was that it didn't matter because Stacy wasn't here. Cuddy wasn't going to engage in a competition when one of the players was gone. It would be pointless, and ultimately unwinnable.

Cuddy loosened her arms as House turned toward her, then tightened them again in a loose embrace as she rested her head against his chest. "Maybe you do," she said quietly. "But you don't like needing me. You fight it, and me." He was such a guy that way. For all his brilliance and his eccentricities, he still fell into that stupid macho trap of thinking that men had to be 'strong' and emotionless.

Not that she was blaming all their fights on his attitude. She knew she had her own issues and they caused as much conflict as his. She could even admit--to herself--that even when she was sure she was right, she might not be totally right.

"You need to realize that when I get mad at something you do, or don't do, it's got nothing to do with whether I love you or not. I can love you and be angry with you." She almost laughed at that because she definitely spent a lot of time being both angy and in love when it came to House. Maybe it was even necessary. Maybe the kind of passion she felt for him when things were really good needed the opposite for balance.

"You should also realize that sometimes I get mad at you because I need you, too, and I'm afraid you won't be here...for whatever reason. Sometimes I try to tell you what to do because I think if I can control everything then I can make sure you'll be here, alive and happy and with me."

"See, you are a control freak," House retorted, almost tiredly because their bigger fights always left him feeling weary and drained.

Of course, their fight didn't even solve what had caused the fight in the first place: the fact that he'd bought two tickets to Europe the following week. He was hesitant to bring it back up in case it just brought their fight full circle. He didn't even know what to do about these tickets now. Part of him was fearful that this fight was just an ominous sign of things to come if he forcibly dragged Cuddy along on this overseas trip. God, he seriously had no idea how to navigate his way through a relationship. No idea whatsoever. Cuddy being so headstrong and stubborn and anal retentive - and pumped full of pregnancy hormones - just made it even harder to navigate.

He pulled back and urged Cuddy back from him enough to drop a kiss to her lips, then he looked down at her with a slightly bothered frown. "You can't control everything, even if you think you can," he said. "As much as you want to live in a world that goes exactly the way you want it to, you don't. And trying to control me..."

He pulled a pained grimace because Cuddy really should know better. He then sighed, studying her face. "For once, forget about trying to control everything and just... come to Europe with me for a few weeks. The world isn't going to end just because you went on a spontaneous trip. Your life will still be waiting for you back here. You'll be doing something you've always wanted to do, something you'll never get a chance to do ever again.

"Just... if you want to enjoy a life with me, then enjoy it for all it's worth and stop trying to control it. The more you try to control it, the more I'm convinced you're not happy being with me because you're too busy trying to make me fit into your life the way you want me to fit."

As he talked he found himself thinking back to his conversation with Wilson in his kitchen. He'd adamantly refuted every one of Wilson's claims and statements, but that didn't mean House didn't actually take any of it on board a little. "Sure, maybe this trip is a bit spontaneous," he continued, "but... If getting shot has taught me anything, it's that you only live once. Make it count."

"I don't try to control everything," Cuddy murmured in a faint protest. She wasn't that much of a control freak. However, she did need a certain amount of order and stability in her life. Maybe she didn't need as much order as she had but that was the way she was wired. She needed to know that she could depend on some fundamental things in order to deal with other situations that deviated from the plan. Complete chaos sent her anxiety level through the roof. And one of the things that she needed to know was under control was her job.

She let out a weary sigh as he tried to entice her into going to Europe. She knew he didn't realize she found it insulting that he thought so little of her work that he thought she could simply walk away from it for a month. Worse, she was certain that if he had work--one of his weird, convoluted cases--he wouldn't consider walking away from that. He'd be obsessively engrossed in the puzzle until he got it solved. But that was House--he rarely ever looked beyond the moment or his own desires.

"Two conditions." She wanted to go to Europe and she wanted to go with him but there was going to have to be some kind of compromise for her to be able to enjoy the trip. She would have to work some long days in the coming week and she'd have to call in a few favors. And if the board got bitchy, she'd have to point out that she was actually entitled to six weeks of vacation each year and she never took the full amount. It was going to be a huge hassle but she thought she could probably make it work. House was going to have to be willing to make some concessions.

"First, I have to be able to see my obstetrician before we go." That was actually the least problematic. One advantage to being the boss of a hospital was that when you wanted to see a doctor, you got to see a doctor.

"And second, there are going to be days when I'm going to have to do some work. I'll take my laptop so I'll have my files and I can contact anyone I need to." She looked up at him, willing him to be a little flexible with her. "I want to go to Europe with you, but I need to keep an eye on what's happening back here, too."

House had hoped Cuddy would just agree, so when she agreed but under 'two conditions' he let out a sigh as weary - and a little frustrated - as hers. He hated compromise, especially when he had it in his head to do something he wanted to do. It was all or nothing - that was pretty much how he approached everything.

He gave a mild roll of his eyes when she said about seeing an obstetrician, mainly because it made him feel uncomfortable to talk about the baby in any way. But her seeing an ob/gyn, he could deal with. Her next condition, however, he gave her a protesting, almost outraged look.

"How is that a vacation?" he arued. "You don't take work on a vacation!"

While she looked up at him, house stared back down at her with a suffering expression. But then he started to think that maybe the only way he would get her to go with him was by allowing her that one concession.. until they got to Europe. Then he would definitely try and put a stop to her doing work because no way was he going too sit around Europe, waiting for her to do work.

With that decision in mind, he relaxed a little and just shrugged like it was no big deal. "Okay," he agreed, though he figuratively had his fingers crossed behind his back at the same time. "Deal."

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Late Saturday afternoon (October 7)

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