Title: The Cuddy Chronicles
Summary: House speculates about Cuddy's sex life and Wilson gets annoyed. House wants to know why.
"Why do you think Cuddy has been such a pill lately?" Greg House asked as he rested his head on the back of his chair. He took a long swig of beer and glanced over to his friend, James Wilson, as he waited for a response. The younger doctor was stretched out on the couch in House's apartment, clutching his beer to his chest and contemplating whether to lift his head. He decided he could answer the question adequately in his current position.
"I have no idea but I'm sure you're going to tell me. And just for the record, I hadn't noticed, " he said, managing to drink his beer without spilling, which was quite a feat considering he was almost fully reclined on the couch.
"You hadn't noticed the perpetual scowl on those otherwise luscious lips?" House asked. "And speaking of luscious, did you see the blouse she was wearing today?"
"No what? The perpetual scowl or the blouse?"
"Why are you being so difficult?" House asked as he watched his colleague lazily drinking his beer while sprawled out on the couch.
"I'm being difficult." The oncologist lifted his head and frowned at his friend.
"Well, I'm glad we agree on something."
"That remains to be seen," Wilson said, flopping his head back against the couch. He swallowed another mouthful of beer. "What were you saying?" he asked, seemingly concentrating more on his beer than on the conversation.
"Cuddy," House said. "She obviously hasn't gotten any in a long long….long time. At least a couple of months."
Wilson smirked. "And you know this how?"
"It's obvious. She's desperate and getting more miserable by the day. Before you know it her neckline and her waistband will be one in the same," House said as he swept his hand down the front of his shirt illustrating his words. "Which is a sight worth waiting for I might add."
Wilson sat up shook his head. "She's not miserable; she just has a lot on her plate. It's not easy running a hospital and dealing with you on a daily basis. And I wouldn't be surprised if the latter is the more frustrating of the two."
House snickered. "She is miserable and it's because she needs to get some," he decided.
"And you're offering your services?" Wilson asked, amusement showing on his face.
The other doctor thought a moment and smiled devilishly. "If she begged me nicely enough, I would consider it."
"If she didn't beg you nicely you'd consider it."
"That all depends on your definition of 'nicely'," House said. "In the meantime she should get herself a vibrator," he concluded as he leaned onto his cane and stood up, heading for the kitchen.
"She probably already has one," Wilson said as he took the last gulp of his beer. "Get me one too," he called out.
House stopped and cocked his head with a questioning look on his face. "Oh really? I happen to know on good authority that she doesn't have a vibrator in her underwear drawer, so where have you been snooping?"
"It's a new world; women take care of themselves which means most of them own at least one," the oncologist retorted. "And I like to think that I'm well adjusted enough to have no desire to snoop around my boss's personal belongings," he added with a distinct edge to his voice.
"No, you just have the desire to snoop around Debbie in Accounting," House quipped. Wilson scowled as the older doctor turned towards the kitchen. "Does the lovely soon-to-be-ex Mrs. Wilson own a vibrator?" he called out as he disappeared around the corner.
Wilson rolled his eyes. "I have no idea if she owns one now, but I can tell you that she didn't need one when we were together," he snapped, his voice raised partly for his friend to hear and partly because he was annoyed with the question.
"Ah, yes, Dr. James Studly Wilson, how could I ever have doubted you?" House said, returning to the living room with two beers in his left hand. "Well, if Cuddy does own a vibrator, my guess is that she has the Space Invader II," he speculated, or maybe even the TriGasm Wonderwand." Wilson shook his head slowly as he reached up to accept the bottle offered to him. The older doctor slowly sank down into his chair and laid his cane on the floor. "But someone ought to tell her that it works better with batteries," he added as he opened the beer bottle and started drinking.
"How do you know so much about vibrators?"
"Have to keep up with the competition," House said, his expression serious.
Wilson laughed in spite of himself. "Why the sudden interest in Cuddy's sex life?" the young doctor asked, twisting the cap off and tossing it onto the coffee table.
"Well, duh? When have I not been interested?" House asked, his eyebrows pointing up into a question.
Wilson shrugged. "Okay, what I should've said was, why the sudden interest in Cuddy's emotional state?" he asked, as he tossed his head back and practically poured the beer down his throat.
"Careful there, Doc, you might end up getting drunk which means you'll get easy and then I may have to take advantage of you," House said with a wry smile.
"I don't get easy when I'm drunk…."
"No, you're right, you already are easy. You just get easier. Not much of a challenge, but sometimes it's actually fun to take candy from a baby," House said, still smiling.
The oncologist smirked. "You would enjoy that, wouldn't you?"
House crinkled his forehead as if he were considering something. "Enjoy what? Taking candy from a baby or taking your candy…."
"Never mind," Wilson snapped. "Let's get back to the topic."
"Which was what exactly?"
"Your sudden interest in Cuddy's state of mind."
House nodded. "Two months ago she was all sunshine and sweetness…which almost made me puke by the way…and this month she's the wicked witch of the east." He leaned forward in his chair and placed the half empty beer bottle on the coffee table. "Aren't you even a teensy weensy bit curious as to her sudden change in attitude?"
Wilson shrugged. "I just assumed it had to do with you."
"Not this time," House said. "I have a theory."
Wilson stared blankly at the other doctor and remained silent as he rested his beer on his thigh.
"Aren't you going to ask me what it is?" House asked, clearly frustrated with his friend's apparent lack of interest.
"Okay, Dr. House, what is your theory?" the younger doctor asked enunciating each word slowly.
House grinned. "It's actually pretty obvious. My bet is that two months ago our very own Dr. Cuddy was sweating up the sheets with little beaver cleaver, and that's why…."
"Wait, hold it, stop," Wilson said as he put his hand up in the air. "Beaver cleaver?"
"Come on, Wilson, beaver cleaver…as in pork sword, lap taffy, beef bayonet, Mr. Stiffy, tallywacker, trouser snake…."
"Okay, okay, enough!" Wilson slapped his palm against his forehead. "What, are you twelve?"
House smiled sweetly as he retrieved his beer from the coffee table and leaned back in his chair. "So, who do you think it was?"
"I'm not convinced there was anyone," Wilson said, an edge to his voice. He seemed angry, but it merely could've been the effects of the beer.
"I know it's hard to hear this, Jimmy, but Mommy was very busy boffing her boyfriend while you thought she was being all giddy over how neatly you do your charting," the older doctor said, mocking sympathy. "But that doesn't mean she doesn't love you."
"House, your theory sucks. Just because Cuddy was in a better mood a couple of months ago doesn't mean…."
"Yes it does."
"And there could be no other explanation," Wilson said, apparently agitated. He placed the bottle down onto the coffee table, hard enough for beer to come splashing out and spilling down the sides. He quickly grabbed a napkin and started sopping up the liquid. "Sorry…don't know my own strength."
House was fascinated with Wilson's reaction. "You're as averse to my theory as I am in favor of it," he said. "Why?"
Wilson stood up and gathered up the empty bottles from the table. "You're basing your theory entirely on the fact that Cuddy was happier than usual two months ago. It could've been anything," he said as he carried the empties to the kitchen.
"What do you think a theory is anyway?" House called out after the young doctor. "It's an assumption based on limited information; it's conjecture."
Wilson came back into the living room empty handed, which the other doctor couldn't help but notice. "Well, it's baseless conjecture," Wilson said as he dropped onto the couch and avoided the other doctor's stare.
House snickered. "I have another theory," he said.
"I don't want to hear it," Wilson said as he leaned forward and snatched the remote control from the coffee table. House quickly reached down and grabbed his cane, using it to poke the remote out of his friend's hand. It hit the edge of the coffee table and dropped to the floor, bouncing a few times before coming to rest in the middle of the room.
The oncologist scowled at his colleague. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked angrily, standing to retrieve the remote.
"Leave it," House barked.
"I said I have another theory. It's downright rude to watch television when your friend tells you he has a theory."
Wilson placed his hands on his hips and slowly shook his head. "I'm tired of this conversation."
"Did anyone ever tell you that you have a short attention span?" House asked.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you're an asshole?" Wilson shot back, his hands still on his hips.
The older doctor ignored the question. "Sit down and listen to my theory. Maybe you can help me prove it," he said as he motioned with his cane for Wilson to sit down. The young doctor rolled his eyes, then turned his attention towards his friend who continued to tap his cane on the seat cushion. "Sit."
Wilson sat back down. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. "Okay, let's hear it," he said as he stared at the floor.
House placed the tip of his cane on the floor directly in front of him, grasping it with both hands and resting his chin on his hands. He looked at Wilson. "Why are you so angry?" he asked.
The younger doctor glanced over towards House, then quickly averted his eyes back towards the floor. He sighed. "I'm not angry; what's your theory already?"
As Wilson looked at the floor he heard the familiar sound of a cap being popped off a bottle and the shaking of pills. Glancing up he saw House quickly down two Vicodin tablets. He leaned back on the couch. "Just tell me," he said quietly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
House made note of his friend's obvious body language before speaking. "I guess it's not so much a theory as it is a question," he said. "Why are you so defensive of Cuddy? I mean, why are you so adamant that she wasn't doing the nasty with some mystery guy?"
Wilson rolled his eyes as he shook his head slowly. "It's just that you spout out these assumptions based on nothing. Did you ever stop to think that there could be repercussions to these ridiculous theories of yours?"
"Jesus, Wilson, what crawled up your ass and died?" House asked. "So Cuddy had some fun and it's over now. Why does this discussion piss you off so much? Just how does it affect you?"
Wilson said nothing, continuing to stare at the floor.
House studied the younger doctor. "How does it affect you?" he asked again.
The oncologist sighed. "It doesn't. I had too much to drink; forget it," he said.
House rubbed his chin as he sat back in his chair. Both men remained silent, House resting his head on the chair and staring up at the ceiling, Wilson still concentrating on the floor. After a few moments House sat up and looked at his friend. "You just proved my theory."