cuddys_house | Late morning, Gare de Cornavin

Late morning, Gare de Cornavin - October 21

On the morning he and Cuddy were due to leave Geneva for Venice, House decided at the last minute to go with Cuddy's suggestion of going by rail. He of course only chose to tell her this once they'd packed up all their stuff ready to be put in the car. While they were due to check out of the hotel fifteen minutes ago, House was sitting on the edge of the bed, perusing the rail information Cuddy had picked up.

"We'll get the 11.56 train," he announced. "Which will get us into Venice by..." He squinted incredulously. "Eight o'clock tonight?!" He looked up to Cuddy. "Going by car would be faster."

Regardless, once they packed everything into the car, House assigned Cuddy as navigator while he drove them through the city of Geneva to Gare de Cornavin. After ditching the car at a small depot near the station, they caught a cab to the station itself and hauled all their luggage into it while House went off to purchase two tickets to Venice. Twenty minutes later, they were on platform 2 with their luggage, a fair number of other patrons milling around for the same train, and a cup of coffee each from the takeaway stall that was just inside the train station.

"Waiting around for a train," he complained. "This has yet to beat driving six hours straight." He glanced at his watch. "You have exactly five minutes to buy any girly things you want to take on board with you. Glossy fashion magazines or whatever it is you read to numb your brain on long trips." He sipped his coffee. "Actually, if you're going to get one, get me one, too. You'll find my kind of light reading in the porno section."

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Cuddy was beginning to regret suggesting the train. If House was going to whine about every little thing on the trip.... Well, at least on a train she could get away from him if she needed to. In a car there'd be no escape.

"I'm going to need chocolate," she muttered to herself. She told House she'd be right back and left him to mind the luggage while she headed to one of the little shops in the station. She didn't actually want to buy anything--except maybe earplugs--but it was a chance to get away from him for a moment. Truthfully, he hadn't been all that annoying; she was simply having one of those days when her emotions were close to the surface. She was easily upset and easily irritated and she knew it. She didn't want to get into a stupid fight over something petty. It was bad enough when they fought over big stuff. She didn't want to let him, however unintentionally, provoke her. The only good thing was that she knew these hormonal-induced moods tended to leave as quickly as they came. If she could keep her temper under control for a little bit longer, she'd probably feel fine.

Despite his complaints, she looked forward to the train trip. She'd never taken a long trip by rail before and it appealed to the romantic in her. There was just something special about traveling by train, at least there was in her imagination. At the very least it meant letting someone else do the driving while she and House could eat, nap, do whatever whenever they liked.

She turned, cocking her head as the announcement came over the speakers that their train was pulling into the station. She quickly made her way back to House, pushing through all the other people congregating on the platform. "Sorry, they're fresh out of porn," she said when she reached him. Just to be ornery she added, "Unless you're into the furry scene."

House watched Cuddy head off, then glanced at his watch with a sigh before taking another sip of his coffee. He supposed going by train wasn't so bad - not yet, anyway. Yeah, he had to wait for the train to arrive, and yeah, he'd be on the train for a long while. But at least he'd be able to move around and do stuff besides sitting in one seat for six hours straight.

It seemed no sooner Cuddy was gone, the announcement for their train came over the loudspeaker. He quickly downed the rest of his coffee, tossed the remainder in the trash, then busied himself with gathering up a few bags around his feet. He was relieved to see Cuddy returning to him because he was just about to get cranky that he might have to do all the hauling himself.

He made a face at the mention of the furry scene. "I think I'll pass," he said. As Cuddy grabbed up a couple of bags, House gave her an assessing look. "I'm surprised you know about that kind of thing, though. Either you're more cultured than I realised, or you've been looking up some naughty things on that laptop of yours when I haven't been watching."

Quickly checking their tickets, House motioned for Cuddy to head towards car A and they lined up behind a few people waiting to climb aboard the train. He looked across at Cuddy. "You've been in a mood all morning. That going to stay that way on the train, too?"

"Cultured?" Cuddy said, giving House a speculative look. If that's what he considered 'cultured'.... "I've never gone looking for that kind of knowledge but sometimes I find it. Clinic patients, for example, can be very...enlightening about unusual sexual practices."

She gathered her bags and followed him to their car. She gave an impatient sigh when they had to wait even though there weren't all that many people ahead of them. She glanced sharply at House when he commented on her mood.

"Yes, I'm in 'a mood.' Which means this would be a good time for you to not annoy me." She turned her attention away from him as she reached the steps into the train car. After wrestling her luggage aboard and stowing it in the luggage rack, she waited for House to find their seats. They had to jostle by a few other travelers to get to their seats but finally they were able to move down the aisle.

She dropped into her seat with a faintly exasperated grunt. She looked over at House as he settled in to the seat next to her. She decided she owed him a bit more of an explanation for her mood. She didn't have any real hope he'd be understanding but if she explained and he insisted on annoying her...well, he'd have no one but himself to blame for the results.

"It's like...turbo-charged PMS," she told him, referring to her state of irritability. She didn't expect him to know how even regular PMS felt but he should know how she acted when she felt that way. She hated the feeling, partly because it was so irrational. Getting angry over real problems was one thing; getting angry over nothing was frustrating. It felt like her mind was racing, unable to focus, and her whole body felt on edge. It was very unpleasant.

"And no, it shouldn't last. It's like the morning sickness--it comes and goes at random but it doesn't usually last long." She leaned back against her seat and closed her eyes. "Be a good boy for the next half hour and we should be fine."

House just pursed his lips and widened his eyes a 'jeez, sor-ry' way when Cuddy snapped at him. For once, he hadn't even done that much to warrant any of this from her. That expression remained on his face even when she looked away to ignore him. He didn't know what the hell Cuddy's problem was, but this was going to be one unpleasant train ride if she kept this mood up. He didn't take kindly to being snapped at, though House did kind of know when to shut it when it really mattered. Such as when a woman was being exceptionally, emotionally hostile.

He stayed quiet for once, and eyed Cuddy warily as she struggled aboard the train ahead of him. He struggled even more with the bags, given that he only had one good leg to aid him, but at last the bags were stowed and he took his seat next to Cuddy with a sigh. Her exasperation hadn't gone unnoticed, either.

"You know, just in case you forgot, getting the train was your idea," he said, sitting back in his seat and looking across at Cuddy after spending a few moments rummaging around in his backpack. He didn't even know if that was the reason Cuddy was irritable, but he couldn't think of any other reason.

Until she concededly explained. He just accepted her explanation with a single nod of his head and turned his head away to look down at his bag still on his lap. The pregnancy, of course. No wonder he'd forgotten that particular explanation, seeing he'd spent so much time and energy not thinking about it.

"Just as well," he finally replied when he pulled a bottle of water, which he'd purchased the day before while in the city of Geneva, from his bag. He uncapped it and took a quick sip. "I thought maybe this was one of those evil schemes of yours we discussed the other night. You know, plain evil payback for being stuck in a car with me for six hours the other day."

He recapped the bottle of water and offered it to Cuddy. "At least I made it onto the train with both legs," he said, referencing to the conversation they'd had about travelling by train a couple of days back. "So much for it being 'fun' and 'romantic', though, with you turbo-pooping on the fun parade."

"No, my evil schemes involve making you feel bad, not me," Cuddy said. Seriously, if she were out to get House, she'd do it in a way that would make her smile. Being miserable in order to make him miserable was not her idea of a good plan. Being miserable at all wasn't her idea of a good plan. Unfortunately the female body, wonderful as it was, seemed designed to cause its owner plenty of misery. Early pregnancy didn't improve that situation.

She accepted the bottle from House and took a long drink before handing it back. "Seriously, you do not know when to shut up," she said in a resigned tone. She shouldn't be surprised. House never knew when to keep his mouth shut. He kept poking and prodding, sometimes until someone shut his mouth for him. More proof, if she needed it, that he was a masochist.

"There's plenty of time for fun. As you said--it's a long trip." She leaned back against her seat as the last call for boarding went out over the speakers. After a moment, she leaned over and rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes.

"Romance could be more of a challenge," she conceded. Not because she wasn't in a romantic mood. After all, that could--would--change once this moodiness passed. Modern trains were impressive and definitely convenient but they lacked something, a certain ambiance, that older trains had had. Or, at least that the older trains had in her imagination. She supposed that being stuck in a coach with a multitude of other travelers had never been terribly romantic.

"You may have to get creative," she challenged. "Why don't you think about that for a while? Do it quietly."

"You're not exactly succeeding in making it fun," House shot back. "You're being miserable and trying to drag me down with you. I designate that as you trying to make me feel bad."

He took the water bottle back and stowed it into his bag, before dropping the bag to the ground between his feet. He sat back with a sigh and restlessly tapped his hands on the arm rests, glancing around the car all the while. Even as Cuddy leaned her head against his shoulder, he kept impatiently jiggling his good leg and tapping his hands.

"You mean you haven't gotten enough of that already on this trip?" he argued when Cuddy said about romance being a challenge. He snorted in mock disgust when Cuddy then suggested he get creative with scheming something romantic.

"Like I said, haven't you gotten enough of that already on this trip?" he repeated emphatically. "Romance is to me as turbo-charged poop is to parades. Which you'd know all about, seeing you're being the expert parade pooper."

He sighed again. He knew if he kept arguing back at everything Cuddy said while she was in a foul mood, he was only going to exacerbate it. He looked down at Cuddy's head on his shoulder, then sat forward just enough to loop his arm around her shoulders as he said, "Come here". He pulled her back to him, though the position was kind of uncomfortable due to the way the seats were fashioned.

"Not even out of the train station, and you're telling me to get creative with romance," he complained. "You know very well I can't think quietly. You want me to do a differential on how to be romantic, I'm going to need a diagnostic team to help me come up with solutions."

All this talking was definitely going to make it all worse. He gave Cuddy's shoulders a squeeze. "Cheer up. You've only got eight hours to go being stuck with me on this train." He untangled his arm from around Cuddy because it was too uncomfortable to sit with her like that.

"Oh, here we go," he announced as the train suddenly lurched forward and began to chug out of the station. He spent a few moments peering out the window as the train ventured out into the city, but quickly lost interest and sat back, resuming tapping his foot and hands. At last, he looked across to Cuddy again.

"How about we play a word game?" he suggested. "That's creative enough. I'll go first. What begins with 'I', has a heart in it, and ends with 'you'?"

"I am not trying to drag you down. That's why I so thoughtfully warned you to not mess with me," Cuddy said indignantly. Honestly, it was as if he was incapable of staying out of trouble. It was as if the little voice that in most people's heads said "warning" instead said "full speed ahead" in his mind. Which would explain a lot if it were true.

She found herself gritting her teeth as he fussed and fidgeted and squirmed and--worst of all--kept talking. She wondered if this was what it was going to be like to have a five year old child. With ADHD. Surely not. Surely even a five year old had a better sense of self-preservation than House did. Then again, this child would be genetically half House's so what were the odds he or she would be any less willing to annoy the crap out of her?

Regardless of what their child's personality would be, she was beginning to regret she hadn't packed a box of crayons and a coloring book for him. It might occupy him for a while. Hell, if she had a porno coloring book, it would probably occupy him for the entire trip.

She rolled her head against the seat back to stare at him. "I 'heart' you, too, but if you don't shut up...." She shook her head, annoyed but lacking the energy to fight him. Clearly her hope for a brief interval of quiet was hopeless. She ran a hand through her hair as if she could physically pull some idea out of her brain, any idea for how to keep him from driving her nuts. After a moment, she looked back at him.

"Okay, if you want to play with words, how about teaching me to say 'I love you' in other languages, like I asked before? Italian would be good since we're going to Italy. Or hell, teach me curse words. I don't care. Just...if you're going to insist on annoying me, at least make it educational."

"Just trying to make the time pass," House retorted at being told to shut up. "Better yet, trying to cheer you up." He settled back into his seat, adding with a mutter, "How many synonyms are there for the word 'hormonal'? 'Bitchy' would be one of them."

Okay, fine. If she didn't want him to talk, she could have it her way. House spent a few minutes peering out past Cuddy to the window, watching the world zip by. But there was only so much window gazing he could do before it all became a monotonous blur. God, how long was Cuddy's bitchiness going to last? He hadn't even packed a book in his backpack to read. Which reminded him:

"You know, if you'd gotten me a porno, you wouldn't be having this problem," he said, looking at Cuddy. "Not even a porno - a glossy mag with motorcycles and hot women in it would've been fine. Or a supermarket tabloid. Newspaper stands never run out of those."

He settled back into the seat again just as Cuddy started telling him to teach her romantic phrases. Or curse phrases. He looked across at her again. "I'm not insisting on anything," he argued. "You're the one insisting on being cranky. You only think I'm insisting on annoying you because you're cranky."

He looked away again. "It's all a matter of perception. You perceive that I'm annoying you, whereas I perceive that you're just being plain bitchy." Then he added under his breath, "Which is clearly one of the key symptoms of pregnancy."

Just then, a woman with a trolley stocked full of drinks and snacks rolled by. House stopped her, pointed at a couple of things on it, then dug his hand into his pocket for some money. Once he exchanged the money for his purchases, he turned to Cuddy and tossed a chocolate bar onto her lap.

"Here, have this. You said you wanted chocolate earlier." Then he added with utmost sarcasm, "I insist."

"Apparently," Cuddy snapped when he muttered that bitchiness was a key symptom of pregnancy. "Or maybe it's just a symptom of being me. Probably hard for you to tell the difference some days, isn't it?"

She held her tongue then but only because the trolley woman had stopped at their row. Cuddy wasn't shy but she wasn't the type to make a private argument a public spectacle. Of course there wouldn't be a private argument if he'd just leave her alone. The mood she was in, every complaint he made just ratcheted her irritation up a notch...or two. It seemed to her he was determined to goad her into a complete meltdown. He was going to succeed, too, if he didn't stop pushing.

She turned her head, her mouth open in disbelief when he dropped the candy bar in her lap. She grabbed it and slapped it against his chest. "Bite me," she said under her breath as she crawled over his legs and into the aisle. The trolley was blocking one route of escape so she turned and headed the other direction.

After wandering through several cars she found empty seats at the back of one of the coach cars. She settled into a seat in the corner and closed her eyes. This was all she'd wanted--some quiet. A little time to calm herself and give her bad mood a chance to ease up a bit. She took slow, deep breaths and used some of the techniques she'd learned in yoga to try and clear her mind. It helped. She began to feel less like jumping out of her skin and screaming at everyone, which had to be considered progress. Then she ran opened her eyes and realized she was crying.

"Oh for god's sake," she muttered to herself. She quickly rubbed her hands over her face, wiping away the tears. She didn't even know why she was crying. Well, there was the whole uncontrolled mood thing, and House, too, but that was no excuse for crying in public. Especially since she'd run off without her purse and didn't have a single tissue at hand.

Cuddy made her way to the toilet at the end of the car. She locked herself in and lowered the lid of the toilet so she could sit. She didn't know how long she sat there but however long it was, it was too long. She didn't need to be having these spells. She didn't need them, she didn't like them, and she wished they'd just stop now. The tears did come to an end on their own and she got up to wash her face in the sink. She patted away the water with a couple of paper towels and finally made her way back out of the toilet.

She felt like an idiot...but strangely calm. It was though crying had drained away all that awful, pointless irritation. She felt better but she wasn't sure how long that would last once she got back to House. He was sure to point out what an idiot she was which would hurt even if it was true.

She gave a quick rub at her eyes as she reached House's seat, just to make sure there was no more spontaneous leakage. Then she nudged him on the shoulder. "Let me into my seat?"

House hadn't expected Cuddy to slap the chocolate bar against him. He frowned in surprise, then evened his expression out into one of sheer impatience. He eyed her as she stood and climbed over his legs, reaching for the chocolate bar which had fallen into his lap.

"You're the one that's biting," he shot back heatedly, craning his neck to peer over his shoulder at Cuddy as she headed off down the aisle.

God. He slumped back in his seat, feeling a little bit whiplashed by Cuddy's behaviour. Annoyed, too. Really annoyed. Cuddy knew just how to get on his nerves when she wanted to. He tapped the chocolate bar on his thigh, then tossed it onto Cuddy's seat before he settled for staring out the window. But after a few moments, he felt to restless to stay sitting here - restless, and a little guilty, too.

Gathering up his cane, he stood and waited by his seat while a woman passed him in the aisle, then headed down the direction Cuddy had gone. He made his way through the next car, and the next, with no sign of Cuddy anywhere. Stepping aside, to let a couple of teenagers edge past him, he looked around him as one last attempt to try and spot Cuddy. And to no avail, he started back in the direction he'd come.

She couldn't have gone far. She was on a train after all, and unless she jumped off, there wasn't many places she could go. Finding his seat again, he sat heavily and kept peering out into the aisle to see if Cuddy was coming back. After a while, he got sick of waiting, and hauled his backpack up onto his lap and rummaged around for his iPod. Bag back on the floor, he put the earbuds in his ears, switched on the music and closed his eyes to try and drown out everything, including how irritated he still felt.

A little while later, he felt a nudge to his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked up to see Cuddy. He pulled one earbud out. "Is it safe to?" he retorted.

Eyeing her with equal parts wariness and irritation, and perhaps a little guilt, he tucked his feet under the seat and turned a little to give room for Cuddy to edge by. Once she was sitting beside him, House toyed with the earbud between his fingers and threw Cuddy a few glances.

"You okay?" he stiffly and cautiously asked.

"If you mean will I bite your head off? Probably not," Cuddy said quietly when he asked if it was safe to let her in. She shuffled sideways to get out of the aisle and past his long legs. She picked up the chocolate bar before she settled into her seat. She turned the candy over and over in her hands as she stared out the window.

"What?" she asked, uncertain she'd heard him correctly. She turned to look at him, then gave a little shrug. "Yeah. I'm okay."

It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that she would've been okay a lot sooner if he'd just done as she asked and left her alone for a while. Saying it wouldn't change anything, though, and she wasn't interested in fighting with him over the issue any longer.

"Go ahead and listen to your music," she said with a little wave at his iPod. He could stay happy listening to his music and she could sit and watch the scenery. And wonder why she was so incapable of controlling her moods these days. She was normal; she had bad moods, bad days but she was always able to keep a lid on her emotions. In public at least, she stayed in control. These days, though, she didn't seem able to keep a lid on it. She didn't know if it was purely a result of the pregnancy or possibly due to the emotional ups and downs of being in love. Whatever the reason, it frustrated her. She hated feeling like she didn't have command over her own behavior.

She glanced down at her watch to see how long she'd been out of control but seeing the time didn't help. She hadn't checked her watch when she stormed off.

"Where are we?" she asked House, gesturing at the countryside flying past their window.

House kept watching her for a moment, not really believing that she was okay. But he wasn't about to question her on it. He'd had enough fighting for one morning and he really wasn't looking forward to the rest of the trip if they were going to keep bickering and sniping at each other.

Looking away, he thought about Cuddy's respone for a moment longer, then stuck the earbud back in his ear. Maybe if he could drown her out for a while, he'd get over his own irritation and maybe this wouldn't turn into the train trip from hell. He closed his eyes, letting Eric Clapton crooning about changing the world soothe him.

No sooner the song was over, he heard Cuddy ask him something. Yanking the earbud from his ear again, he looked at her. "What?" Then as if in delayed reaction, he worked what she'd asked. He shrugged. "Somewhere. Hasn't even been an hour yet, so probably still in Switzerland."

He turned his head away again and popped the earbud back into his ear. Jackson Browne came on next, singing about running on empty. It was a song he strangely related to. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing himself to unwind more.

After a little while, though, he opened his eyes and looked across at Cuddy once more. She was staring out the window, and House watched her do that for a moment before dropping his gaze down to her hands on her lap. He reached across to her one, the one not holding the candy, and he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He gave her hand a prompting squeeze to silently get her attention.

When she looked at him, he raised his brows at her, again silently communicating to ask if she was okay. He gave her hand another squeeze, rubbing his thumb over hers. Lifting his other hand, he tugged the earbud farthest from Cuddy, and held it out to her.

"Want some travelling music?"

Cuddy nodded to herself and went back to staring out the window, strangely pleased that it was still early in the trip. If she had to have a meltdown, at least she'd gotten it out of the way quickly. She let out a sigh because that really wasn't any comfort at all.

She couldn't wait until she made it to the end of the first trimester, which was still another three weeks away. Three possibly very long weeks. Once past the first trimester her risk of miscarriage would drop significantly and that would be one big worry off her mind. It was also likely that at that time--give or take a week or two--she'd also get past the morning sickness and the worst of the moodiness. That would be a definite improvement. She was pretty sure House would agree.

She got lost in her own thoughts, her eyes staring at the scenery but not really seeing it. When House took her hand it almost startled her. She looked over and gave him a quick smile to let him know she was okay just sitting there quietly while he listened to his music. She cocked her head, waiting as he started to hold the earbud out to her.

"But I'll get boy cooties," she protested in a quietly teasing tone. Obviously she didn't have any real problem with boy cooties--especially not his--and she took the earbud from him and lifted it to the ear closest to him. She shifted in her seat and leaned closer so the wires wouldn't be strained between them. She caught just a few closing bars of the current song and she waited for the next, curious as to exactly what music House had on his iPod.

"Listening this way is kind of close quarters," she observed in the brief silence between songs. "I wonder why they don't make these things with dual jacks so two people can listen."

"Better than earwax," House countered.

He gave her a small, thin-lipped smile as she took the earbud, shifting a bit closer so she could stretch it to her ear. Well, this was better than fighting continually. That wasn't to say they were out of the waters yet, because who knew what could happen next with how hormonal Cuddy seemed to be. But for now, this was better.

He had all kinds of music on his iPod. Some were organised into playlists, but most of it was just on random shuffle, just like this particular playlist was. Jimi Hendrix's rendition of 'All Along The Watchtower' came on next, which House closed his eyes to listen to.

"Because it's an iPod," he replied. "It's not a wePod." He shifted a little more comfortable, then added, "Don't know. Because thinking that two people might listen to the one iPod is too difficult for production engineers to conceptualise. Everything is sold in the greedy western world with the consumer attitude that nobody likes to share."

House definitely didn't like sharing. But occasionally, like now, he offered up his prized possessions to be shared with other people. "I'll see if I can find something more fitting for you," he said, looking down at his iPod. He started shuffling through songs, searching for a song that would be perfect for Cuddy.

Locating 'Short Skirt/Long Jacket' by Cake, he pressed play, then as the first few beats of the song started, he looked across at Cuddy and obnoxiously bopped his head along to the beat with an equally obnoxious grin on his face.

"The big companies don't want you to share," Cuddy suggested. "If people shared, they wouldn't buy as many iPods. The company wants everyone to buy their own so they can fatten their huge profits further."

Cuddy was actually fine with whatever the iPod cued up next. She could tolerate almost any kind of music for a short while, even the few types she didn't care for. Right now it was mostly just background noise anyway. She'd calmed down considerably compared to the first bit of their trip but she still felt a bit uneasy about it. When she fought with House over real issues, at least it made sense. There was a reason to argue, and a reason to be upset. When she got upset for no reason it left her feeling disconcerted, almost vulnerable.

"Oh, please," she groaned as House nodded along with the song he claimed was fitting for her. What an ass. But he was being a playful ass and she actually enjoyed that although she usually tried not to let him know it. She was afraid if he knew she enjoyed it, he'd be an ass more often and he simply didn't need that kind of encouragement. On the other hand, she'd love to see him be more playful. She just had to find a way to separate the playful part of House from the ass part and it would all be good.

She simply shook her head, smiling faintly as both the song and House played themselves out. "Aretha would've been a better choice," Cuddy said as the song ended. She quietly sang the opening bars of "R-E-S-P-E-C-T" to him and grinned. "That's not just fitting, it's a classic."

Cuddy groaning only egged House on more to bop along with the music. This was better than fighting. He still didn't feel completely at ease with Cuddy yet, uncertain whether she'd blow her top again over something unexpected, but for now he at least got a smile out of her. A small smile, but a smile all the same. It was a bit crazy how he and Cuddy could go from being at each other's throats to playfully goading each other in a matter of minutes. Who knew - in five minutes time, they could be bickering and fighting again.

"I want a girl with a shirt skirt and a looooong... looooooong jacket," he sang along, then added some air drumming along with it for effect. The song was over way too soon, though - he had to give up his air drumming when a pause broke between that song and the next one.

He looked at Cuddy, smirking at her singing. "I dare you to sing that in a karaoke bar," he replied, which suddenly gave him an idea. He was going to drag Cuddy out to a karaoke bar, if only to try and embarrass the hell out of her. Or just to have fun. Either while they were in Europe, or when they got home.

Weird Al's Star Wars parody of Don McLean's American Pie was next in line on the iPod. "A long, long time ago in a galaxy far away..." House sang along theatrically to Cuddy.

"I'd have to be drunk," Cuddy said immediately. Karaoke wasn't her thing. She could carry a tune well enough that she wasn't embarrassed to sing along at a concert or something like that. Someplace she was in a group and her individual voice wouldn't be heard. And she sang along to the car radio or in the shower, places where there was no one else to hear. But getting up in front of a group of people to perform, that made her acutely uncomfortable.

She chuckled softly as House began singing along with Weird Al. She'd love to see him at a karaoke bar. No, come to think of it, karaoke was beneath his talents. She'd love to see him perform seriously, just himself on the piano or maybe with a small band. He'd be good. And music seemed to be one of the few things that brought him pure happiness. It seemed to be one thing that was untainted by bad memories. She'd love to watch him doing something he did well and enjoyed.

"I actually prefer the parody Weird Al did of Madonna's 'Like a Virgin.' Or the ones he did of some of Michael Jackson's songs." She grimaced in embarrassment. "I loved Michael Jackson's music when I was younger. Loved it. Who knew he would turn out to be such a freak?"

"That can be arranged," House replied.

It could be, too. Maybe he could drag Cuddy out to a bar, have a few drinks, and then 'accidentally' stumble upon a karaoke bar. House was already planning it in his head. He wanted to enjoy being with Cuddy, not continually fighting. This trip was supposed to take them away from all their arguments, but so far it had proven to be a failure in that department. Sure, there'd been some really fun times. But there'd be some really awful times, too. What he and Cuddy needed was a good night out, a really good night out, with alcohol and lots of laughing and plain sheer fun.

"Hey, the freaks are always the most interesting ones," House countered, though he was smirking at what Cuddy had told him about liking Michael Jackson music. Not that he'd ever call himself a fan, but House did admit freaky ol' MJ released some fantastic songs when he wasn't, well, such a freak.

"Check this out," he added, stopping the Weird Al song part way through to shuffle through his music. After a few moments of searching, he finally hit play and looked back to Cuddy as a Michael Jackson classic, 'Off The Wall' started to play.

"The best song he ever released," he announced. "Probably because he was still black and hadn't yet developed an ethnic minority complex."

House reached for the chocolate bar he'd bought Cuddy earlier, adding in the same casual tone as he tore the packaging open, "Take it you're no longer feeling a need to make cranky poo-poo in your pants like you were earlier." He motioned to the candy. "I bought this for you, you know. Aren't you going to eat it?"

Cuddy could tell House was plotting, just from the expression on his face. She didn't say so but it wasn't going to happen. He might be able to drag her to a karaoke bar but she wouldn't be singing. She wouldn't sing without a little alcohol to lubricate the experience and she wouldn't drink again for another almost seven months. If he wanted to humiliate her at karaoke it would have to wait.

She nodded along when House switched to a Michael Jackson song. She really had loved his music, had listened to it constantly back in high school. She supposed the music was still just as good but it was hard to listen to it without thinking about the person singing it and the person singing was so weird as to be incomprehensible. It affected her ability to enjoy the music.

She glanced at House as he unwrapped the chocolate, giving him an exasperated look. "Told you it would pass if you gave me a chance," she said. She reached over and broke off the end of the candy bar and popped it in her mouth. She waved at him to help himself to some of the chocolate as she savored the rich flavor of the bite she'd taken.

"I can't control it," she admitted reluctantly. She hated admitting she was one of 'those' women, the ones who put the hyster into hysterical. While she fully understood the power of hormones and that she couldn't be expected to fully compensate, she still hated it.

"It just takes over and.... It makes me nuts."

"Never really know from one minute to the next with you lately," House replied.

He eyed her as she broke off some chocolate. He didn't even know himself from one minute to the next lately, either. One minute, he was okay. The next, he was... not. And with Cuddy being sporadically up and down, it made things even more difficult. Often, he couldn't tell if she was just being hormonal or if she was actually angry with him. The things she did and said, sometimes he was positive Cuddy couldn't stand him, and then she'd get all defensive and act all surprised when he pointed out exactly how it seemed to him. Even when communicating, he and Cuddy sometimes didn't seem to communicate very well.

Of course, the fact that she was pregnant made it even harder for him to deal with. He didn't want to address the baby - but he couldn't address her mood swings without somehow addressing the baby. It was as though everything in the universe lately was deliberately making him face this pregnancy against his own will.

He popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth and chewed while Cuddy went on to explain further. "It does make you nuts," he agreed. "And it drives me nuts." He swallowed and broke off another piece before offering more candy to Cuddy. "You take everything I say personally when you're being like that, even though you should know by now not to. I try to make things better, you make out I'm deliberately trying to make things worse. I don't try to make things better because I'm certain you'll deliberately make out I'm making things worse if I do, you then make out I don't care. Can't win."

He shrugged and added, "Then the times when I don't actually care, you just make out I'm a selfish jerk. Which probably isn't too far from the truth."

"It's not all my fault," Cuddy said as she broke off another piece of chocolate. "Your perception of my intentions goes wide of the mark as often as my perception of your intentions."

They really were quite the pair. Part of the problem was the basic male-female differences in communication styles. Part of it was that he was House and she...wasn't. Add his PTSD and her hormones to the mix and it was no surprise they weren't on the same page. Sometimes they weren't even in the same book.

What gave her the most frustration was that the things that caused the biggest arguments were the things he refused to talk about at all. The shooting and his reaction to it--he wouldn't discuss it. The baby--he wouldn't even think about it let alone discuss it. She didn't know how they could hope to get past the arguments if they didn't talk about those topics. But if she tried to talk about those subjects it only provoked another arguments. She couldn't win.

"Most of the time I'm afraid to say anything about anything that matters," she said. She glanced out the window for a moment before turning back and taking another bit of chocolate. "That's not going to stop me, of course, because it's too important. But... it is stressful."

"Good thing I have better aim than you," House retorted, just to be an ass. "You, on the other hand, you throw like a girl."

House didn't always know why he and Cuddy ended up in such big or stupid arguments. The big, vicious arguments that circled around how he was coping with the shooting, or the baby - he knew what those were about. But he still often found it bewildering how fierce those fights could get, or how adamant Cuddy could get over something, or how - as Cuddy said - wide of the mark they aimed at each other.

He sighed, looking at Cuddy for a moment, then looked away. "What isn't stressful? That's called life." He popped another bit of chocolate in his mouth, throwing a cursory glance at the people around him.

"What was so wrong with that dentist in Trenton?" He looked back to Cuddy. "Nothing wrong with a dentist. Rich. Well off. Could've provided everything for you that you would've needed. Probably wanted kids, a lifelong marriage and a picket white fence, just like you. And yet..." He studied her face closely. "You're with the guy who refuses to make friends with a razor, thinks picket white fences are only good for target practice, and hardly ever meets you halfway."

"At least I am a girl. What's your excuse?" Cuddy taunted, looking at him with her eyebrows raised. Her tone was mild, though, because she wasn't looking to start an argument. At least he'd admitted it was a mutual problem...sort of admitted it anyway.

She didn't think she misunderstood him anymore than he misunderstood her. The problem was that what was important to him wasn't necessarily what mattered to her. Like this trip--all he'd cared about was the trip. She, on the other hand, had cared about her job. Which he completely didn't understand.

At times she wondered if their differences really were too great to overcome. They had completely different priorities in life. She wanted the typical things. He wanted...well, honestly she wasn't sure what he wanted. She wasn't sure he knew.

She glanced sideways at him, surprised that he'd been thinking along the same lines she had. "Yes, the dentist would've been fine. Nothing wrong with him. We probably would've been...comfortable."

House was absolutely right. The dentist would've been what she was looking for. He probably would've even been what she needed. But only the bare minimum of what she needed. He would've provided for her dreams but he wouldn't have given her new dreams.

"He would've been perfectly adequate and yet I'm here. Guess maybe what I want is more than just adequate." She gave him an assessing look. "Is that so different from you? You didn't want anyone at all and yet you're with someone who wants all the traditional relationship stuff. Guess maybe neither of us wants what we thought we wanted."

"Right, and I'm the complete foundation of adequate," House replied sarcastically.

House didn't consider himself all that adequate, not when it came to what Cuddy wanted in her life. Cuddy wanted the conventional, he knew she did, yet he was anything but conventional and he knew that, too. He knew he didn't value what she valued in certain areas, such as family. And marriage. And all the other things people generally sought after to make their life 'complete'. He was always going to fall short somewhere because he wasn't going to be able to provide Cuddy with everything she wanted. He knew that.

It was one of the many things that scared him about being in this relationship. Supposing the day came where Cuddy decided she couldn't handle the fact that he couldn't - or wouldn't - provide certain things for her that she wanted. Anything was possible. She might claim now that wouldn't happen, but House knew she couldn't see into the future any better than he could. And with this kid on the way, House was terrified of how much that was going to change things. Either for the better or for the worst. Being the pessimist he was, he tended to sway towards the worst.

"Did I ever say I never wanted anyone?" he countered, returning Cuddy's assessing look with a sharp one of his own. "I said I didn't want any relationships. Big difference."

Maybe Cuddy was right, though. He hadn't wanted a relationship, yet here he was, balls deep in one with Cuddy. He looked away. "Maybe," he reluctantly agreed in a mutter. "That doesn't stop you from wanting all the traditional relationship stuff, however. And that doesn't stop me from not wanting all the traditional relationship stuff."

He looked back to Cuddy. "So, what does that mean? I'm the ying to your yang?" he said dryly.

"Isn't yang the male aspect?" Cuddy asked. She didn't really care, she was simply concentrating on what House had said. Because it was what she'd been thinking. And because although he was right, she didn't accept that it was the only right answer.

"I've always wanted a traditional relationship and everything that goes with it. I'm having a baby, which is part of the everything, but I'm not having it in a traditional way. We're not married. We don't even live together. And I find I'm really okay with that."

She'd always planned to get married, have kids, the whole package just like House said. She'd begun to change that thinking when she'd decided to undergo IVF, and yet in the back of her mind she'd still held onto the idea of getting married. She'd just be doing those two things backwards.

The reality, though.... House was not the marrying type. She'd never questioned that. She'd found it wasn't that important to her. She worried more about whether he'd stay in her life than whether they were or ever would be 'legal.'

She reached over and took his hand, uncertain that she could find the right words--words he wouldn't misinterpret--to explain all that. She wasn't sure she could explain it to herself. Some of it she was still wrestling with in her own mind. And some of it she simply accepted as fact even if it didn't fit her preconceived notions.

"I guess what I mean is that neither of us is doing the sort of relationship we thought we wanted. Yet it works. Most of the time. Enough to make it worth figuring out the rest." She gave his hand a squeeze, then gestured at the last bit of chocolate bar still gripped in his other hand. "I'm willing to do what I have to to figure the rest out...but only as long as you promise not to hog the chocolate to yourself."

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