Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D. nor the characters. I make no money from this.
Author's Note: This was a bit of a fic experiment for me. It consists of mostly dialogue. And there really isn't closure.
"Later tonight I'm going to tell you I love you an' maybe by that time you'll be drunk enough to believe me."
- Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Tennessee Williams
He showed up with a bottle of vodka.
"What are you doing here?"
"Came to drink with you."
"Came to let you watch me drink."
She let him in.
"Want a shot?"
She folded her arms over the robe covering her nightgown. He shrugged and downed the shot.
She was counting. It was his third.
He looked to her, eyeing her up, seeing through her.
"You act like you don't want me here."
"Take a shot."
He poured it and set it on the counter. Her eyes remained on it, but then she shook her head. House took another shot glass from his pocket and poured. He took the shot.
She took her first shot. He was on his fifth.
"You might want to slow down," she told him.
He frowned against the taste in his mouth and gave a shake of his head.
"Why are we drinking anyway?"
"What else are we going to do? Here."
He poured another shot for her.
He was digging through her refrigerator. Her stomach was doing flip flops.
House stopped and turned in her direction, the kitchen moving slightly until it focused along with his view of Cuddy.
"You gonna vomit?"
"No." She was insulted.
He dug back into her fridge.
"Don't get too comfy," she told him as she watched him shift himself on her couch.
"Why?" he asked and downed the rest of the water she gave him after their heavy drinking.
"Because you're not staying."
"You want me to drive home?"
"No." She planted her hands to her hips. "I'll drive you."
"I don't think so." He sat up. "You're as bad as I am."
"I am not."
"You're flushed." He smirked.
"I..." She diverted her eyes.
He was right.
"Don't even think about putting the moves on me." She stood in front of her bed.
He sat himself on her bed. "Why are you going to bed? You're drunk. You should party. Dance for me."
She snorted. "Dance for you? Maybe you should get off of my bed?"
"You invited me."
"To sleep on the couch, not follow me into my bedroom."
"You didn't protest."
"I'm protesting now."
"But, I know you don't mean it." He smirked again.
"Tell me something about you."
She looked to her left to see him looking at her. She wondered, for a moment, if there was enough space between them as they laid beside each other.
"I have blue eyes," she told him.
"Something I don't know."
"Something about when you were a kid."
She sat up, her head spinning. "Only if you'll share after."
"Um..." She paused, trying to think of something good. Her mind went to a memory she had always tried to forget. "Okay. When I was ten, I used to sneak out of my house. I would go out the back door and walk around to the front of our house and walk down the street. The stars were out and I would stare at the sky as I walked. I didn't have to worry about walking into anything. I didn't have to worry about cars. It was me and the night and the stars."
"I'm not finished. One night... I was going down the street and I heard a scream. It sounded more like a shriek. A cat or something. I didn't know. So, I went towards it."
"You went towards it?" He raised his eyebrows.
"I was ten. And I thought it might've been a cat. So, I'm trying to figure out where it's coming from. I walked up to this house and heard the sound again. I snuck around to the back and I looked around, thinking I would see this cat. But, there wasn't one. However, there was a light on in the back of the house.
"I started to get the hell out of there because I didn't know what the hell was going on. But, then I heard the sound again. I shouldn't have looked, but I couldn't not look. So, I climbed onto a trash can and looked in the window. And there was the woman who lived there having a baby in her kitchen. Her husband was delivering the kid. And I watched until the baby came out and then I got the hell away from that house.
"I waited to see the baby, to hear about the baby. But, no one ever said anything. Like, it never happened. I mean, my mom knew the neighbors and everything, and no one ever mentioned anyone even being pregnant. I never saw the baby. I never saw the kid. That couple lived there until I went away to school and no kid ever came out."
"That's creepy as fuck, Cuddy."
"I know." She rested back down beside him. "I never told anyone."
"Shit." His hand went to the top of his head. "I need more to drink."
"No, you don't. Your turn."
"I don't know what to say."
"I know... Give me a minute."
House wanted a story to match hers, but in his inebriated state, he wasn't able to think of something as good so quickly. He settled.
"Okay. It was Father's Day. I was probably thirteen. My dad didn't really care for those kinds of celebratory occasions. I knew that since I was five and he threw my Father's Day card out right after reading it."
"We were in South America at the time. We were only going to be there for a few months. I thought, for the hell of it, I would get him something. I knew that he didn't really care for the stupid paper cards, but I thought if I gave him something that meant something, it would be different."
"So, I looked everywhere, trying to find anything that could mean something to him. Finally, I decided to buy this picture frame. It was made of carved wood. It was impressive. I had a picture of me and my mother that I decided to put in there. That way, he could keep it on his desk anywhere he was and it would be something familiar, you know?"
"That night, I gave him the framed photo as we were eating dinner. He stared at it for a very long time. Then, he just threw it casually to the table and said 'What's that for?' And I told him it was for Father's Day. And then he said, in all his wisdom, 'What the hell do I need that for when I see the two of you every day? You should save your money, Greg, not waste it.' Then, he took his plate and went into his study."
"He's not the most sentimental man," Cuddy commented.
"Not by a long shot."
House shrugged. "S'all right. I've gotten over it."
"That's, like, the third time you've peed."
House's eyes followed her as she walked back over to the bed. She sat down on the edge, her attention on him.
"It's the alcohol."
She flopped down next to him.
"I can't believe you're in my bed."
"Fantasies coming true?"
"What're your plans for tomorrow?"
"Go for a run, stop at the drug store-"
"Birth control pills."
"And I have to call my mom."
"Wow. Busy Saturday."
"Why? What're your plans?"
"Oh, boy. Make sure you take pictures."
"I always do."
"I'm so drunk right now."
"It's not funny. How did I let you do this?"
"You wanted it as bad as I did."
"Noooo." She sat up, the room spinning a bit, and scooted away from him.
She looked back at him, her hair falling over her shoulder.
"Why did you let me in?"
"I, um... Well, I... I was kind of lonely tonight."
House nodded, understanding. She flopped back down next to him.
"Not so lonely now," she said.
"It's after one." He stared at his watch.
"It's already Saturday." He let his arm fall to his side.
"Yeah." She sat up. "I have to pee again."
"Where did you get that?"
She stopped just outside the bathroom, watching as he meticulously poured a shot of vodka from a bottle they hadn't been using before.
"It was either this, rum, or wine. I thought we should stick with the familiar."
"Who said anything about drinking more?"
"I did." He took his shot. "You?"
She eyed him up and gave in. "I need to chase it with something."
"You need Chase?" He pretended to mishear her.
"Ha." She rolled her eyes at him as she headed out of the room. "I'll be back."
"How's the diet coke working for you?"
"Excellent," she pushed sarcasm into her tone, watching him as he poured another shot. "Greg, how drunk are we getting?"
"I'm not sleeping with you."
He set the vodka bottle on the night stand. "Did I even mention that?"
"Not yet. Why do you feel you need to get drunk?"
"Oh, God, please don't do this. It's just... why do you feel the need analyze every step you take?"
"Yeah-huh." He picked up the full shot glass and held it out for her. "Here. Go for it."
"Last one." She took it from him. "I can't do another."
She downed the shot, feeling the burn. She extended the shot glass back to him and sipped her diet coke.
She slowly looked over to him. He was sitting next to her in bed, his hand outstretched. She frowned at him.
"Gimme your hand."
"I can read palms."
"No, you can't."
She let him take her hand within his. He examined her palm, his finger tickling her palm and making her pull back slightly.
"Easy," he said. "Now... it says you are sophisticated, always horny, and will live too long for your liking married to a bozo."
She yanked her hand back. He held up two defensive hands.
"Don't shoot the messenger."
"Lemme see yours," she told him. "I happen to be able to read palms, too."
Cuddy took his hand and traced one of the lines on his palm with her fingernail.
"Says you're an arrogant asshole about to be kicked out of a nice cozy home."
He pulled his hand away. "You're not very good."
"Oh, yeah?" She raised her eyebrows. "Get outta my house."
"You wouldn't kick me out when I'm this drunk."
"I will if I have to."
"I haven't done anything. Yet."
"Yet," she agreed.
He looked over at her as she was spread out beside him.
He sat up and leaned over her.
He bent toward her and placed his lips to hers. She opened her eyes and pushed him back.
"What the hell are you doing?" She sat up, glaring at him.
"Looked like Snow White. Or Sleeping Beauty." He shrugged. "Yeah, didn't think that would work."
"It didn't." She frowned. "Don't do that again."
"Wouldn't dream of it. No happily ever after for Cuddy. Got it."
She settled back down and closed her eyes.
"You're a boring drunk," he nearly pouted.
"I was tired to begin with it."
"That's no excuse."
He rested down beside her.
"Think you'll have a hangover tomorrow?" he asked.
"Really? Because you drank a lot."
"You have no idea what my tolerance level is now, Dr. House."
"You've become quite the surprise, Dr. Cuddy."
"Shhh," she told him in a hushed tone, wanting to fall asleep.
"Can you get the light?"
"You haven't fallen asleep yet?"
"If I'm talking to you right now, I'm not asleep."
"What have you been thinking about?"
"Turn the light off and I'll tell you."
He sat up. "Kinky."
"Not at all."
House stood to his feet, barely able to feel the pain in his thigh. He was glad to have gone to this point and still have been able to walk and talk. He was especially glad since he was around her.
He limped to the night stand and switched the light off. He returned back to her side as he formerly was.
"What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking about my grandparents' house," she told him the truth because it was easier to give in since she was so tired and just wanted to sleep. "The way it smelled. My nan was always cooking. My grandfather was rough."
"Rough?" That caught his attention.
"Hit me once. Right across the back. I learned to move fast after that."
"What'd you do?"
"What do you mean?"
"To hit you. I mean, why did he hit you?"
"I, um, don't remember."
"You're a terrible liar. Worse when you're drunk."
"I was just acting up."
"But, what were you doing?"
"I went into his closet and put on one of his shirts and a tie. And then I spilled nail polish on his tie. It was his father's. I shouldn't have been wearing it."
"You still feel guilty about it, don't you?" He could tell by her tone. "Your grandfather's long been dead, but you still feel bad."
"I shouldn't have been wearing that tie."
"Accidents happen. And that's okay. You life isn't some train wreck. You've made it through the majority of you life with little to no scratches."
She opened her eyes and looked over at him. "You don't know what I've been through. Just because we had a night and I had remembered you from college, it doesn't mean-"
"I know. Shut up. You're drunk."
"Yeah..." Her eyes closed again.
"Iloveyou." The words tumbled out and ran together, forming one semi-coherent word.
"I said... um, never mind."
"Well, I wish that was true." She used sarcasm to hide any other emotion.
"Cuddy?" He knew she was asleep by now. "I do love you." He paused. "I think."