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The Cuddy Chronicles
by Rennie51
"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."
"No what? The perpetual scowl or the blouse?"
"Neither."
"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.
"House...."
"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."
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Wilson looked over towards House. "I just proved your theory," he said attempting to take in the words but not still not understanding what they meant.
"That's what I said."
"Which theory?" Wilson crinkled his face up trying to ascertain what he and House were talking about.
"How many do I have?" Apparently, the beer was doing a job on both doctors.
Wilson tilted his head in thought. "Two, I think. But the second one was a question, wasn't it? I'm confused." He got up and headed for the kitchen. "I need a beer...you want one?"
"Yeah. And bring some chips too," House called out, scratching his head. He felt a bit disoriented, but he was on a mission and wouldn't allow a few beers to keep him from getting his point across. He took a few deep breaths to clear his head.
Wilson reappeared a few moments later with two more beers in hand and two bags of chips. Handing one bottle to House, he dropped a bag of chips onto his lap and stepped over the cane to get to the couch.
"I wanted the nachos," House whined, eyeing the bag his friend was holding.
The younger doctor looked at the bag in his hand. "They're both nachos," he said.
"Yeah, but I like those better."
Wilson rolled his eyes as they each tossed their respective bags to the other. "So, why do you even buy these? Never mind; I don't care," he said as he dropped back down onto the couch and tore open the bag.
They both sat without speaking for several minutes as they munched on chips and drank their beers. Finally House spoke up.
"You just proved my theory," he said as he took a gulp of beer.
"You already said that." Wilson rubbed the back of his neck and looked questioningly towards his friend.
"But you didn't react," the older doctor qualified.
"Oh dear sweet mother of god!!" Wilson said loudly, clutching his palm to his chest. He took a long swallow from his bottle. "How was that?"
"You're being difficult again," House accused, shaking his head.
"You haven't stopped being difficult."
House smirked. "Why don't you want to talk about this?"
"Because in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter," the young doctor explained as he eyed the remote control. Maybe if he turned on the television, House would lose interest in this conversation.
"Since when has that ever stopped you before?" House asked as he picked up his cane and tapped it on the floor to get Wilson's attention away from the remote. The young doctor reluctantly turned towards his friend.
"No, House, that's you, not me." He sighed. "You're going to have to remind me what we were talking about because I just can't remem...."
"Nice try, Doc. You remember."
"I've had six...no seven...no...wait...uh...I've had a lot of beers. I. Can't. Remember," he repeated, announcing each word slowly to emphasize his point.
"Fine, I'll humor you. I was talking about Cuddy doing the horizontal mambo with some guy. And you got your panties in a wad. Ring any bells?"
"Oh. Oh yeah. Your theory," Wilson said, shaking his head slowly.
"Yes, my theory. So, now you're up to speed."
"Right. You said....." Wilson furrowed his brow as he attempted to remember. "You said...."
"I said, 'you just proved my theory'." House finished his colleague's sentence, impatience evident in his voice. He tossed the bag of chips onto the coffee table and wiped his hands on his pants.
"Ah. That was it. And how did I do that exactly?" Wilson asked as he crumpled his forehead.
House sighed. "You're doing this on purpose, Wilson."
"Doing what?" he asked innocently.
"Talking in circles. So, I guess I'm just going to have to come right out and say it."
"But that's so unlike you," the young doctor said, almost sounding sincere.
"It was you, wasn't it?" House asked accusingly. When he realized what he had just said, he leaned forward and pointed a finger towards his friend. "I can't believe it. It was you."
"Can you be more vague?" the oncologist asked, again eyeing the remote control on the floor in the middle of the room.
"You and Cuddy were doing it," House said excitedly.
Wilson almost choked on his beer. "What, are you nuts?" He spilled some beer on his shirt but ignored it as some of the liquid rolled down towards his belt while the remainder slowly seeped into the fabric.
"Now you're acting all shocked and surprised like you don't know what the hell I'm talking about." House said in annoyance.
"That's because I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Wilson yelled. He felt his chest becoming uncomfortably sticky from the beer, so he wiped his shirt with his hand in an unsuccessful attempt to dry it out.
"It all fits. You and Julie were splitting up. You were lonely. Cuddy was lonely. She was so lonely that she lowered her standards and substituted you for me, realizing that she could never have me and..."
"Shut the fuck up." Wilson stood and placed his hands on his hips defiantly.
"Did I hit a nerve?"
"No, you're embarrassing yourself," the oncologist said angrily; after a moment he sat back down.
"You're getting all mad again. Further proving my theory. Means it's credible," the older doctor said smugly.
"House, I did not sleep with Cuddy."
"Okay, semantics. You didn't sleep with Cuddy. That doesn't mean you didn't...."
"I didn't have sex with Cuddy!!" Wilson yelled. "Happy now?" He stared at his accuser, his eyes narrowed.
"Of course I'm not happy. If you're telling me the truth then you just shot my entire theory to Hell. What kind of scientist does that make me?" House leaned back in his chair disheartened.
"The asshole kind," Wilson snapped.
"So if you didn't have sex with her why did you get so pissed when we were talking about it before?"
"First, let's get this straight. You were talking about it. I wasn't."
"Fine, Doctor stick-in-the-mud. Answer the question," House growled.
"Because Cuddy's emotional state two months ago had nothing to do with sex." Wilson wanted to pull the words back the moment they came out of his mouth.
House's eyes grew wide with astonishment. "So, you do know. What the hell was it then?" He was literally on the edge of his chair, waiting for the juicy details from his friend.
"I can't be discussing this with you," the young doctor said quietly as he looked down towards the floor.
House's mouth dropped open. "Oh come on, Doc, you're not cutting me off now. Did you promise her you wouldn't tell me? Okay, how's this, why don't you just write it down; technically you wouldn't be telling me then and...."
"Doctor patient confidentiality," Wilson interrupted. He leaned forward and placed the bag of chips and his beer on the coffee table, waiting for House's reaction.
As expected, the other doctor was dumbfounded. "You treated her? For cancer?"
"Not exactly. I can't talk about this, House." He looked into his friend's eyes hoping to convince him to abandon his persistence.
"Either you tell me or I make your life a living hell," House warned.
"Again, so unlike you."
House stared blankly at the other doctor. Wilson knew he wouldn't give up. He sighed.
"She had a cancer scare. It turned out to be nothing. She was very relieved and very happy. So happy in fact that you came up with the only logical explanation that it had to be because she was having sex...apparently with me." Wilson paused and thought a moment. "But I imagine if Cuddy was having sex with me, she would be happy, ecstatic even...."
"Shut up before I throw up all over you."
Wilson grinned.
"Okay," House said grudgingly, "I believe you. But how does that explain her behavior lately?"
"You're going to have to remind me...." Wilson said, rubbing his cheek.
"A pill. I said she's acting like a pill," House barked, his patience teetering. He didn't like being wrong.
"Oh right. Well, I guess my original assumption...or for the sake of this discussion... my original theory... was correct."
"Which was what actually?"
"That her current irritability is a direct result of your behavior."
"The hell it is."
"Okay, let's analyze this," Wilson said leaning forward on the couch. As he spoke he held up one finger. "First, you pissed off a hospital benefactor by telling him his son was too homely to be his kid."
"That was just my way of telling him that he's a handsome guy," House jumped in, defending himself.
"Then," Wilson continued, holding up a second finger, "you tried to steal food from the cafeteria by hiding it under your salad."
"They owed me for the crap they tried to pawn off as food the week before," House protested.
"Third," Wilson said as he held up another finger, "you told a woman suffering from incontinence to make sure she bought the colossal extra jumbo sized adult diapers....."
"If you insist on turning everything I do into something negative you're going to run out of fingers and toes."
"They're not just negative, House, they're offensive. Not to mention illegal, childish, rude, offensive and very very bad."
"You said offensive twice."
"I was trying to make a point."
"Everything you just rattled off is all a matter of interpretation," House said innocently.
"No, House, they were bad. And that's just off the top of my head. Any other hospital administrator would've fired you a long time ago."
"Cuddy would never fire me. She wants me," House said smugly.
Wilson rolled his eyes. "Sometimes you really are a child," he said, exasperated at the older doctor's attitude.
"Am not."
Wilson chuckled in spite of himself. "I just hope you learned something today," he said. As brilliant as his colleague was, he often acted like a spoiled brat. Wilson smiled inwardly as he realized it was part of the older doctor's appeal.
"Yeah, I learned that you were right....you don't get easy when you're drunk. You get boring."
"House...."
"Okay, okay. So I made a mistake. I apologize to Cuddy and to you. Satisfied?" he asked, his voice more sarcastic than not. Wilson noted the tone in his voice but accepted the gesture.
"It's a start," the young doctor said.
"So, Cuddy's okay?" House asked with sincere concern.
"She's fine."
"Good," House said, his eyes sparkling. "How 'bout we break into her house and put some batteries into that vibrator of hers......"
End.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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