more fic
“Wilson, no.”
Wilson paused as he rummaged through the cupboard over the fridge. “But you said the one above….”
“The other one over the fridge.” Cuddy was busy digging through the kitchen junk drawer, pulling out tape and scissors.
“Of course, the other one,” Wilson muttered to himself, shifting sideways. His progress was impeded by a growth on his leg: a twenty month old, dark-haired girl who was clutching at his pant leg and making little ‘uh uh’ noises as she waited for her daddy to pick her up. “Rachel, just give me a minute. Cuddy…?”
Cuddy set her supplies on the kitchen table and took the little girl by the hand. “Rachel, why don’t you go to your room and pick out a book for Mommy to read to you?” She gave her a little nudge out the door and turned back to the table where Nathan was sitting patiently, holding a tube of wrapping paper.
“Got it,” Wilson announced. He stepped over to the table with a box. He opened it and pulled out a silver menorah. He and Cuddy both stared in dismay at the tarnished silver as he set it on the table.
“I’ll take care of polishing. You get House’s present wrapped,” Wilson said. Cuddy nodded and reached for the wrapping paper.
“Why don’t we celebrate Christmas?” Nathan asked, shifting up on his knees so he could assist in wrapping the present.
“We celebrate Hanukkah,” Cuddy answered as she set a box containing Nathan’s present for House--a new video game--on the paper and cut off enough to cover it. She glanced at Wilson with silent plea for help. He pretended not to notice as he set the menorah on a sheet of old newspaper and picked up a rag to work the silver polish onto its surface.
“But why don’t we have Christmas?” Nathan persisted.
“Because…we celebrate Daddy’s birthday instead.”
“Because Daddy’s birthday is more important than Jesus’s?”
Cuddy and Wilson exchanged disconcerted looks as they both struggled silently to find the right response to such a potentially inflammatory question.
“Yes,” House said from the doorway. Cuddy instantly pulled the wrapping paper over to hide the game.
“That’s not true,” Wilson told Nathan after giving House a warning look.
“Is, too,” House insisted as he ambled over to stand with his hand resting on the back of Nathan’s chair. “In fact, my birthday’s not only more important, it’s actually real.”
“Jesus’s birthday isn’t real?” Nathan asked, his face screwed up into a puzzled look.
“House,” Wilson said sharply. “Don’t confuse him.”
“The truth is going to confuse him?”
“The truth confuses a lot of people,” Wilson said.
“Rachel Anne Wilson!” Cuddy’s sharp exclamation ended House and Wilson’s incipient debate before it could fully develop. They both followed her gaze to the kitchen door, House’s eyebrows rising as he took in the sight of Rachel dragging her blankie in one hand and wearing not a stitch of clothing. Nathan glanced at Rachel, then turned back to pulling strips of tape from the dispenser and sticking them on his arm, completely unfazed by the sight of a naked little sister.
“Bath night?” House asked Wilson.
Wilson simply shook his head, stunned. “Rachel…?”
Rachel merely smiled at her father, and then took off running down the hall.
~~**~~
“I want to ride my bike to Kyle’s house.” Nathan was pushing his bike alongside him which indicated he either expected permission to be granted or he intended to take the bike whether permission was given or not.
House sat on the front steps of their home and gave him a long look before reminding him, “Helmet.”
“I don’t wanna wear a helmet,” Nathan whined, but he flipped the kickstand down and pulled the black and orange helmet from where it was hanging from the handle bars. He jammed it on his head, peering out sullenly through the flattened spikes of his hair. “Kyle doesn’t have to wear a helmet.”
“Kyle’s parents are obviously trying to save money,” House said, waving Nathan closer so he could make sure the straps were fastened tightly. “Kid coffins cost less than grown up coffins.”
“Dad.” Nathan’s sigh was a perfect imitation of Wilson’s and House couldn’t help grinning. He also couldn’t help thinking of sticking a lab coat, a pocket protector, and a tie on the kid and teaching him to plant his hands on his hips. It would be best Halloween costume in the neighborhood.
“Thomas says it’s weird that you and mom have different bedrooms.” Nathan’s announcement was matter of fact but it threw House for a loop.
“Who’s Thomas and why do we care what he thinks?”
“He’s the smartest kid in first grade. And he says it’s weird.”
“It’s not weird,” House said, shaking his head. “You have two dads and he’s hung up on our sleeping arrangements?”
“Other kids at school have two dads. Or two moms. It’s no big deal.”
“But you have two dads and a mom,” House said.
“Everyone has a mom.”
“Well, yeah, but….”
“Why do you and mom have your own bedrooms?” Nathan persisted.
House rubbed his hand over his forehead, looking around for rescue. When the Mounties didn’t gallop into the yard, he finally dropped his hand. “Mom has her own bedroom because she wants her own bedroom and giving Mom what she wants makes her happy and making Mom happy makes everyone happy. I get my own bedroom because sometimes I don’t sleep well and having my own room means I don’t keep Mom and Wilson awake all night.”
“How come Uncle Jimmy doesn’t get his own bedroom?”
“Because Uncle Jimmy is a pathetic girl who’s afraid of sleeping alone.” House gave Nathan a wink but Nathan didn’t buy it. He merely continued to regard House with the same patient and patently disbelieving expression. “Oh, fine. Uncle Jimmy…well, he never asked for his own bedroom.”
Nathan seemed to chew that over for a few minutes, his expression serious. Then he looked up at House again with an intense stare. “Who do you love most?”
“Mom or Wilson?”
“Me or Rachel.” Nathan watched, his eyes unblinking as he waited for House’s response. House in turn struggled to not make a dismissive or sarcastic reply. Struggled, in fact, to avoid making any response at all.
“Why do I have to love one of you more?” House rubbed at his forehead again, nervous, as Nathan’s expression twisted into one of confusion. House gave an impatient grunt as the uncomfortable silence dragged on. “Who do you love more--me or Mommy?”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” House asked.
“…because?” Nathan said hesitantly.
“Come back when you’ve got a good reason,” House said. “Then we’ll discuss it.”
Nathan studied him a moment longer, chewing at his lower lip as he considered the proposal. Then he shrugged and mounted his bike.
“So how long do you figure before he comes back with a reason?” Wilson asked, stepping out of the front door behind House.
“How long have you been eavesdropping?” House snapped, looking up over his shoulder.
“Long enough.” Wilson settled on the step next to House and watched as Nathan rode down the sidewalk toward Kyle’s house, legs pumping furiously. “So…?”
“Oh, don’t,” House grumbled. He shoved up to his feet almost angrily and reached for the door. “Don’t even go there.”
~~**~~
“Did you have to invite the Mom Mob?” House asked in a harsh whisper. He had Cuddy pinned in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, his arm braced against the jamb to prevent her from fleeing.
“It’s Rachel’s birthday. Why wouldn’t I invite her grandparents?”
“Her grandparents, fine…I guess. But did you have to invite my mom?”
“Nathan adores your mother,” Cuddy said.
On one side of the door, in the kitchen, Blythe and Nathan were putting the finishing touches on the cake Wilson had baked earlier in the day. On the other side, in the living room, Miriam Wilson and Carol Cuddy were spoiling their granddaughter with attention. Jacob Wilson was seated in House’s chair in the corner, his eyes closed and faint snores rumbling from his open mouth. He, at least, had found an escape from the festivities.
John House had escaped, too, in a way. He’d died several years earlier and even Cuddy wasn’t so doggedly family oriented she’d invite a dead man. Her own father hadn’t made the trip either. Tom Cuddy had end-stage Parkinson’s. Traveling around the house was difficult enough for him let alone travelling half way across the country. He’d elected to stay home and Cuddy’s sister was spending the weekend with him so Grandma Cuddy could visit. Next time he saw Cuddy’s sister, House was really going to have to thank her for that.
“He might, but I don’t.”
“You don’t hate your mother,” Cuddy said, exasperated.
“I should. Every well adjusted boy hates his mother.”
“Well, no one’s ever said you were well adjusted.” Cuddy ducked under House’s arm and entered the kitchen. Blythe glanced up with a smile. House returned the smile uneasily, suddenly certain she’d overheard his conversation.
“Ice cream’s here,” Wilson announced, entering the kitchen from the garage.
“About time,” House said.
“I wouldn’t have had to go get more ice cream if you hadn’t eaten the ice cream I’d already bought,” Wilson said in a crisp rebuke. His announcement had drawn the other two grandmothers to the room…along with one other person.
“Oh, my!” Carol Cuddy said, pressing her hand to her chest. Wilson looked over and cringed when he saw Rachel dancing into the kitchen, stark naked.
Cuddy followed his gaze and groaned. She glanced apprehensively at all the grandmothers as she tried to grab her daughter. Rachel, as always, considered it a game and she dived under the table. Cuddy threw her hands up as Wilson tried to head Rachel off at the other end of the table. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She started doing this a couple of months ago and we can’t get her to stop.”
“Don’t worry, Honey,” Carol said, laughing now that she’d gotten over the initial surprise. “Lots of toddlers go through a clothing optional stage.”
“Greg used to do the same thing,” Blythe said matter-of-factly. House looked at her in horror as the rest of the adults all became acutely interested in what Blythe had to say. She continued on, either ignorant of her son’s frantic head shaking or, possibly, not caring. “I’d get him dressed in the morning--he was so adorable-- and the moment I turned my back on him, he’d be running through the yard, his little dingle waving in the breeze.”
“Mom,” House said, his voice nearly cracking in embarrassment. A couple of snorting noises escaped Cuddy despite the hand she’d pressed firmly over her mouth. She gave up after a moment and let out a loud, braying laugh. Wilson ducked his head but peeked up at House, a thoroughly amused expression on his face.
“I’m sorry, dear,” Blythe said, smiling. “But it’s true: you were a child nudist.”
~~**~~
Cameron entered the doctors’ lounge, heaving a sigh when she saw House planted in front of the tv, remote firmly in hand. She’d hoped to relax for a few minutes while the E.R. was slow. Under the circumstances, it was now a faint hope.
“Shhh,” he said, waving his hand at her before she could say a word. “They’re just about to reveal who the father of Tiffany’s Siamese triplets is.”
“As long as I live, I’ll never understand how you can watch this stuff,” she said, sinking into the chair next to him and drawing her legs up. She shook her head in disbelief at the ridiculous scene playing out on the plasma screen and pulled a protein bar from her pocket.
“Please, it’s pure crack. And everyone knows how addictive that is.” House looked over his shoulder, annoyed when the lounge door opened again and admitted another distraction.
“House…. Oh, hey, Cameron,” Wilson added when he noticed her sitting off to the side. She waved her half-eaten bar at him and he immediately turned his attention back to House. “I’ve been thinking, and I think we need to celebrate our anniversary this year, all three of us.”
House looked up at him, one eye screwed shut as he tried to make sense of Wilson’s suggestion. “We don’t have an anniversary.”
“Yes, we do.”
“Pretty sure we don’t,” House said, turning his attention back to the television. “We’re not married so it’s not a wedding anniversary. My first date with Cuddy was a long time before my first date with you. And I’m pretty sure our first date wasn’t on the same date as mine and Cuddy’s first date so it can’t be that kind of anniversary.”
“The day you all moved in together,” Cameron guessed. Wilson dramatically flung his hand at her like some latter day Bert Parks introducing a new Miss America. House half expected a shower of confetti to fall from the ceiling.
“Well, that’s a stupid anniversary,” House said.
“It’s…an excuse to celebrate,” Wilson said. “What do you care?”
“I don’t like anniversaries. I don’t like dressing up and pretending to be romantic just because of some arbitrary date on a calendar.”
“Maybe you and Cuddy should celebrate alone,” Cameron suggested to Wilson. “House can babysit.”
He gave her a hard look and sniffed. “I’m not allowed to babysit anymore.”
“What?” Wilson’s eyes widened. “Since when?”
“Since I took the kids out for a ride on the bike last time.”
“You didn’t,” Cameron gasped.
“He didn’t,” Wilson said dismissively. “And even if you had, Cuddy never said you couldn’t babysit. That would actually be a reward and she’s not going to do that.”
“And that’s the kind of evil, manipulative, child-endangering woman you want me to dress up for?”
“I can babysit,” Cameron offered before Wilson could respond.
“Not a chance,” House said. “You’ll only use the opportunity to pump the little rugrats for all our deep, dirty secrets.”
“Only your deep, dirty secrets,” Cameron said.
House frowned and made a shooing motion with the remote. “Don’t you have a dead guy to wed or bed?”
“Chase isn’t dead.”
“I can fix that for you,” House offered with an obnoxious wink. “I know people.”
Cameron pushed up from the chair, gracing House with her most disdainful look, and nodded to Wilson as she passed by him. “Call me if you need me.”
“Thanks.” Wilson nodded to her, then focused his attention on House again. “Come on, when’s the last time the three of us got to go out? Without kids?”
“So we get dressed up, go out for a ridiculously expensive dinner, then come home and have to deal with the kids and being too tired and end up falling into bed, nookie-less like always.”
“So….” Wilson thought that over for a moment. “We have my mom come stay with the kids and we go away. Just for a night. Just us.”
House groaned. “Dressing up isn’t bad enough? Now you want me to pack?”
“Atlantic City.” Wilson nodded to himself, already working out the logistics in his mind. “A nice dinner, a little gambling, maybe a show…. I’ll make the reservations.”
“I hate you,” House called after Wilson he headed for the door.
~~**~~
“As anniversaries go, this one sucks,” House said. He was lying on his back, his pillow folded in half behind his head so he could see the television. Next to his feet, Nathan was sitting cross-legged on the bed. His hand was deep in the bowl of popcorn resting on House’s legs but he’d forgotten all about it. He was completely under the spell of the movie, his face illuminated by flickers of light coming from the TV screen.
On the other side of the bed, Wilson was sitting back against the headboard, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. “There was no way Cuddy was going to leave Rachel.”
In the middle of the bed, between House and Wilson, Cuddy was lying on her side, asleep. Curled up to her chest with her head tucked under her mother’s, Rachel was also sound asleep, exhausted by a fall from the jungle gym at pre-school and a trip to the emergency room. A neat row of small stitches was barely visible just under her swollen chin.
“It’s not like she lost a limb,” House said grumpily. “Won’t even be much of a scar.”
“You didn’t even want to celebrate our anniversary,” Wilson pointed out in a faint tone of exasperation.
“Because it’s not a real anniversary.”
“Dad,” Nathan said in a loud whisper. “Shush.”
“Where do you get off shushing me?” House asked.
“I’m trying to watch the movie. You’re just whining.”
“I don’t whine,” House argued.
“You do nothing but whine,” Cuddy said, her voice groggy. House gave her a dirty look, then raised his eyes to Wilson for a second opinion.
“You whine a lot,” Wilson said, flatly denying House’s appeal for another verdict. He relented after a moment and turned his head to look at House. “The movie will be over in fifteen minutes. After that we can put the kids to bed and….”
“And Cuddy’s already passed out and you’ll spend half an hour with your obsessive bedtime routine before claiming you have an early meeting and need your beauty sleep.”
“So it’s a typical night.”
“But it wasn’t supposed to be a typical night,” House said. “I was ready and perfectly medicated for a night of gambling and schtupping.”
“Schtupping’s a bad word,” Nathan announced. House’s eyes grew wide and Wilson pushed his glasses up his nose as he stared at the boy. “That’s what Grandma Wilson said.”
“You asked Grandma what schtupping means?” Wilson asked fearfully.
“Last time we stayed with Grandma and Grandpa Wilson, she asked where you were and I said Daddy said you were schtupping and Grandma said it was a bad word,” Nathan said.
Wilson went into a full body cringe, his glare at House promising retribution. House glanced warily at Cuddy when she made a sleepy grunt. “You’re going to pay for that.” She opened her eyes just enough to glare up at House. “How many times have I told you not to use Yiddish around a kid who has access to Jewish grandparents?”
“I thought we agreed we’d be open with the kids about s-e-x.”
“About s-e-x in general. Not about our s-e-x in particular.”
“I can spell, you know.” Nathan was staring at House over his shoulder. Unable to think of a suitable reply--that was to say a reply that wouldn’t get him in deeper trouble--House simply grabbed the remote and turned off the television. Nathan’s jaw dropped and he stared at his father in outrage.
House stared back. “Bedtime.”
“Can I sleep in here? Everyone else is.”
“Might as well let him,” Wilson said. House groaned, but lifted up the sheets. Nathan scrambled up the bed and slid in between Rachel and House.
“This is getting way too Little House on the Princeton Prairie,” House grumbled as Nathan snuggled in under the covers next to him.
“Yes, it’s exactly like that…except I don’t think Ma and Pa Ingalls were into threesomes,” Wilson said as he turned off the bedside lamp and shifted down on the bed.
“You obviously haven’t seen the director’s cut.”
“Shut up, both of you,” Cuddy muttered. Wilson settled on his side at Cuddy’s back, his arm draped over her waist as his fingers rested lightly on Rachel’s back. House considered saying something just so Cuddy wouldn’t have the last word but in the end, he simply unfolded the pillow behind his head and scooted down until he was lying on his back. For a moment the room was silent but for the small rustling sounds of five people settling in for the night.
Then Nathan’s voice broke the peace. “Daddy, what’s a threesome?”
.