Uncertainty Is The Only Certainty There Is (depending on who you ask).
"Who do you think you're talking to?!" Cuddy's voice came clear through her office door, making everyone in the clinic look up, then across to see who was in the office. At the elevator, House put his hands up, file in one hand, cane on the other. He was innocent. For once. That tone of voice and volume was usually reserved for him but some other poor soul was the victim of her wrath today. He wasn't being shouted at, he was on his way to be shouted at.
He wondered if she shouted at a lot of other people, or if this was a rare occurrence, because he was almost jealous. Almost. Cuddy was very sexy when she was angry, though this didn't bode well for his procedure, or his patient.
"Out!" Cuddy almost screamed this and this guy had to have killed a couple babies. House quickened his pace then and saw a red head come barreling out of the office, looking down at the floor. He grabbed her arm as he passed, looking through the glass panes in the office door, at Cuddy who was pacing.
"Leave your resume on my desk," he said, turning to look at the doctor for a moment, before opening the office doors wide and leaning forward. "Can I be disciplined now Mistress Cuddy?" he asked.
"House," she sighed, "what do you want?"
"Maybe I just wanted to see you?"
"You never just come to see me," she said, sitting back at her desk and leaning back, "thankfully."
"Leer at you?" He closed the office doors behind him as he walked into the room, flopping down onto a chair opposite her.
"Maybe, but normally you don't have a file with you, so," she paused, moving to hold out her hand to take the file, "what do you want? Or, what do you want to do?"
"You know me so well."
"I'm hurt," he said, leaning forward, "but I know you love me really."
"House, I don't even like you," she said, waving her hand at him, "just gimme the damn file." Giving her a wounded puppy look, he handed her the file and prepared himself for angry Lisa.
He walked away having gotten Cuddy's sign easier than he had expected to. He could only assume she had put all her energy into reaming the red head before him. He stopped to consider and enjoy that mental image for a second, a quirk at the corner of his lips, before limping off to find his lackies or see Wilson. Which ever came first.
He bumped into Coal and simply handed him the file without a word, knowing 'big love' would understand. He hadn't gotten this far without some common sense. Not a lot but some. He carried on to Wilson's office, letting himself in and propping his leg up on the sofa seconds later, his cane resting between his legs.
"Do you love me?" he asked. Wilson opened his mouth to speak but hesitated.
"Is this a trick question?"
"No, I really want to know."
"Well, yes, I, you're my friend," he paused, hesitated, but House gave him nothing, "so I, yes," he stuttered.
"You love me?"
"Are you going to use it against me?"
"No, I just want to know." Wilson frowned, but again, House didn't give him anything to work with. Not that he expected it, but he was an eternally hopeful man. Eventually, one day, House would change.
"You are going to use it against me," he said.
"Cheque book's at home."
"I take Visa." Wilson rolled his eyes.
"Why do you want to know?" he asked, changing tack. It had been both a serious question and a trick question, the only way House knew how to communicate sometimes.
"Cuddy doesn't love me."
"She said that?"
"She said," he shifted on the sofa, resting his head back a little further, "that she didn't even like me," House said.
"No one likes you, I don't like you. This doesn't bother you usually."
"It doesn't bother me."
"But the fact that Cuddy doesn't love you, does bother you?" House sat up again, cane between his legs.
"Yeah, you think that means something? Like I'm sick?"
"Or you're human," Wilson said with a smile.
"That's just cruel." The smile widened. "If she doesn't like me, doesn't love me, why does she put up with me in her hospital?"
"You're finally wondering this now?" Wilson said, "maybe, and I hate to stroke your ego in any way, she just thinks you're a good doctor."
"Or it's lust."
"Lust?" Wilson raised an eyebrow so high House thought it might make a break for it and join it's brothers on the man's head. And with that surreal thought he popped anothervicodin and tapped his cane onto the carpet.
"Cuddy has the hots for me. She wants me and wants to keep me at the hospital so she can lust after me."
"But usually right."
"Not about this," Wilson countered.
"We'll see," he hoisted himself off the sofa with his cane and walked out of Wilson's office, smirking.
He looked through the glass panes of Cuddy's office door before walking in and shutting them behind him. He gave her his cocky quirk of his lips, and sat in the chair opposite, lifting his bad leg up and crossing it over the other, feet resting on the edge of her perfect desk.
"You have a crush," he said, "on me."
"I do not," the words came out in a rush and he smirked.
"Where the hell did you get that idea from?"
"Either you feel guilty about the leg, but I think you've gotten over that, or you have a crush on me, but you put up with me.
"You save lives, House, you're the best damn doctor in the country and hell, it's not like any other hospital would take you."
"Doesn't mean you don't have a crush on me."
"I don't have. A. Crush. On. You."
"Your mouth says no, your nipples say yes." Her head snapped down to look at her chest, rising slowly to glare at him when she say nothing, the material of her shirt smooth. She couldn't help the blush that spread out over her cheeks though.
"House, get out."
"We could go have sex, I'm amenable to the idea, but it could be the unresolved sexual tension that keeps me here."
"It's not a crush House. You're a good doctor and I care about you."
"You care about me?"
"Of course I do."
"But you don't like me."
"No one likes you."
"True, but people love me..."
"I'm sure they do," she cut in.
"My mother, Wilson, Stacy, Cameron," Cuddy raised an eyebrow at the young doctors name but he ignored it, "a few mad patients..."
"But you don't?" She hesitated with her reply, and knew it was her downfall because House knew her too well. "Or you don't want to admit it?" This was a game for him, drawing things out of people, getting them to speak when they didn't want to say anything. When they didn't always have something to say.
"House," she warned. He didn't say anything, just started at her with the quirk on his lips and sharp blue eyes focused on hers, not dropping to check out her cleavage for one moment. For the first time in years.
"Fine," she said, standing up, planting her hands flat on her desk, "I love you, I don't like it, but I care about you and I love you. In a strictly platonic, somewhat masochistic way." He smiled then, for a moment, then got up to leave. "That's it?" she asked, "You just wanted to hear me say it?"
"Unless you want to have sex over your desk?"
"She loves me," House said, walking into Wilson's office without a pause, crashing down on his sofa like before, but unable to lay across this time due to the woman siting at one end.
"House, I have a patient," Wilson said. House looked at the women in his office, the older one sat in a chair opposite his friend, the younger woman in the way of his legs.
"You should lock your door."
"You have a key." Wilson stood and House followed his lead, "sorry," he said to his patient, "Dr. House had boundary issues." He ushered House into the corridor, closing the door behind him softly. "She told you she loves you?"
"Yes." He smiled and Wilson raised an eyebrow in response.
"And nothing," he said, starting to limp back up the corridor towards his own office.
"That's it? She loves you," Wilson asked, walking after him.
"Why did it matter so much?"
"No reason." Wilson laughed at that.
"You insist everything has a reason."
"So there's love, was there lust?"
"She won't have sex with me."
"Did she want to?"
"Of course," he smirked, "she's maintaining a platonic basis though, borderline masochism."
"Does that bother you?"
"Yes, and it's a wonderful catchphrase but why did you chase this like one of your cases?"
"I just wanted to know."
"Don't you have patients?" Wilson looked back at his office.
"Fine, but I'm not letting this go."
"You don't have my persistence, you don't need it. Your patients usually die."
"Do you have feelings for Cuddy?"
"Is this the point where I grab my groin and say 'yeah, right here'?" House said, smirking.
"We'll talk about this later," he said, going back to his office and House limped back to his with a smirk.
"You told House you love him?"
"Yes," Cuddy didn't stop clearing up her desk as Wilson walked in and sat down opposite her. She didn't look up either, until she had created a neat pile of files.
"Do you love him?
"Does it matter?"
"To House obviously."
"It's purely platonic, and House just needs to know people love him because he doesn't love himself."
"Sound familiar?" He smiled at her. "The reasons why aren't important Wilson, not to me or House."
"Reasons are important to House."
"Not his own," she told him, picking up the files and putting them on the other side of the desk. She changed her mind again and put them back in their original spot, Wilson's eyes watching every move.
"On medical decisions. Not why he needs me to tell him how I feel about him."
"And it's definitely platonic?"
"And a little masochistic, yes," she sighed, "please drop it Wilson." He looked across at her. He would let it go, of course, on her say so, even with House.
"He plays games with the people who love him. Don't forget that."
"As if I could."
"He'll use this, push you."
"Are you sure it's platonic?"
"Get out," she said, glaring, and he nodded, getting out of of the chair and walking away.
She knew though, House was the only person that could make her feel uncertain, and if she was going to feel uncertain about anything, it was going to be this.