FF: What Things Are, Pt. 1
Title: What Things Are
Author: Ellie
Rating: R (for adult themes)
Spoilers: Post-“Who’s Your Daddy?”
Summary: “His bike was in her driveway when she got home, but he was nowhere to be seen, until she entered her living room and his voice rang out in the darkness. ‘You were going to ask me something.’”
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“Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps; for he is the only animal that is struck with the difference between what things are and what they ought to be.” -William Hazlitt
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Part 1
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His bike was in her driveway when she got home, but he was nowhere to be seen, until she entered her living room and his voice rang out in the darkness. “You were going to ask me something.” His tone matched the lazy insolence of his posture as he sprawled across her sofa.
“You beat me home.”
“Bike beats Beamer every time. You planned to say more than ‘thank you.’”
She sat her briefcase by the sofa and settled into a chair opposite him. “What makes you think I’d tell you now, when I obviously decided not to say anything then?”
“You wouldn’t have mentioned it if you didn’t want me to ask. You knew I would.”
She sighed, and knowing he was right. But she wasn’t sure she wanted him asking her right now. “And your curiosity needed to be satisfied less than two hours after I walked out your door?”
“It’s me! You’re lucky I let you walk out the door without getting an answer. But I have a feeling that the hospital hallway wasn’t really the best place to hear it.”
“No.” She looked away, suddenly nervous, and picked at an invisible bit of lint on her skirt. The perfect opportunity had presented itself earlier, and she’d walked away from it. She wasn’t certain she could muster the courage now.
“And?” He continued to rest akimbo on her sofa, right leg stretched along its length, looking no less casual than he had when she’d arrived. But there was an expectant, persistent note in his voice that she recognized, and knew that he wouldn’t budge until she’d said something to him.
It might as well be the truth. “I did want someone I knew and liked; that’s why I asked Wilson out to dinner, to pursue that idea. But it just felt wrong, and I thought it would be too complicated.”
“Because deciding to have a baby through in vitro is such a simple process.”
She locked gazes with him, and he quieted. “And after what you said in the clinic, I started thinking about it again. About what I’d said to you in jest.”
“You want me to be the donor?” He was frozen, so still that if she hadn’t heard him speak, she wouldn’t have believed he was breathing.
This was the beginning of the frighteningly complicated mess she still wasn’t sure about diving into. For all his façade of indifference about everything, she knew he wouldn’t be able to remain neutral and uninvolved if he was the father of her child.
After taking a deep breath she nodded, then looked up at him. “You can be as uninvolved as you want. Or not. I’m not looking for someone to play house with, but if you want to help pick a name and come to piano recitals….” Despite speaking to people for a living, she felt words suddenly eluding her, unsure of how to ask him while still giving him every possible out.
“Piano recitals are good. Maybe even soccer games. But I absolutely refuse to come to ballet recitals. All that pink tulle gives me hives.”
“Mmm, it’s very scratchy.” She smiled and realized he’d been thinking about this, too.
Without another word, he rose from the couch and lumbered towards her door. Pausing, he turned back to her with a troubled, serious expression. “Does this mean I can call you Big Momma?”
She laughed at that, much as she tried not to encourage him. “Go home, House.”
He winked at her before disappearing out the door.
****
Unsteady with nerves and precarious stiletto heels, she stepped into House’s office. He didn’t look up at her entrance, just continued to sit, slouching, with his feet on his desk and a cheap tabloid in front of his face. As she approached the desk, she was able to read the distressed, nearly illegible printing on his t-shirt, which proclaimed “ne travaille jamais” proudly to the world.
She could think of nothing more appropriate for the man in front of her. “Nice threads.”
“I thought you’d appreciate it.”
Leaning against his desk, she toyed with the fuzzy, oversized tennis ball that rested on the corner, studying her nail as it traced the curve of the seam. “Positive. I thought you’d like to know.”
He slapped the magazine down on his desk and looked at her with something approaching a genuine smile. “Does anyone else?”
“Know? No. I want to keep it quiet for a while, especially considering….” She didn’t have to finish the thought, just gesticulated in the space between them.
“Congratulations.” He did smile then, and she added it to the handful of times she’d seen him do so. When he smiled, she thought, he was almost handsome.
“Thank you.” It seemed so inadequate, a smile and thanks. Yet anything more was too much for them now.
For a moment they smiled, then, uneasy with this unusual circumstance, quickly broke away. House cleared his throat and she bounced the ball on the edge of the desk, then settled it and stepped away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Try to be on time for a change, huh?”
“Give me lateness or give me death.”
“That was liberty.”
“But it works better with lateness.”
She rolled her eyes and walked away, wondering what she’d committed herself to for the next eighteen years.
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End Part 1
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Author: Ellie
Rating: R (for adult themes)
Spoilers: Post-“Who’s Your Daddy?”
Summary: “His bike was in her driveway when she got home, but he was nowhere to be seen, until she entered her living room and his voice rang out in the darkness. ‘You were going to ask me something.’”
****
“Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps; for he is the only animal that is struck with the difference between what things are and what they ought to be.” -William Hazlitt
****
Part 1
****
His bike was in her driveway when she got home, but he was nowhere to be seen, until she entered her living room and his voice rang out in the darkness. “You were going to ask me something.” His tone matched the lazy insolence of his posture as he sprawled across her sofa.
“You beat me home.”
“Bike beats Beamer every time. You planned to say more than ‘thank you.’”
She sat her briefcase by the sofa and settled into a chair opposite him. “What makes you think I’d tell you now, when I obviously decided not to say anything then?”
“You wouldn’t have mentioned it if you didn’t want me to ask. You knew I would.”
She sighed, and knowing he was right. But she wasn’t sure she wanted him asking her right now. “And your curiosity needed to be satisfied less than two hours after I walked out your door?”
“It’s me! You’re lucky I let you walk out the door without getting an answer. But I have a feeling that the hospital hallway wasn’t really the best place to hear it.”
“No.” She looked away, suddenly nervous, and picked at an invisible bit of lint on her skirt. The perfect opportunity had presented itself earlier, and she’d walked away from it. She wasn’t certain she could muster the courage now.
“And?” He continued to rest akimbo on her sofa, right leg stretched along its length, looking no less casual than he had when she’d arrived. But there was an expectant, persistent note in his voice that she recognized, and knew that he wouldn’t budge until she’d said something to him.
It might as well be the truth. “I did want someone I knew and liked; that’s why I asked Wilson out to dinner, to pursue that idea. But it just felt wrong, and I thought it would be too complicated.”
“Because deciding to have a baby through in vitro is such a simple process.”
She locked gazes with him, and he quieted. “And after what you said in the clinic, I started thinking about it again. About what I’d said to you in jest.”
“You want me to be the donor?” He was frozen, so still that if she hadn’t heard him speak, she wouldn’t have believed he was breathing.
This was the beginning of the frighteningly complicated mess she still wasn’t sure about diving into. For all his façade of indifference about everything, she knew he wouldn’t be able to remain neutral and uninvolved if he was the father of her child.
After taking a deep breath she nodded, then looked up at him. “You can be as uninvolved as you want. Or not. I’m not looking for someone to play house with, but if you want to help pick a name and come to piano recitals….” Despite speaking to people for a living, she felt words suddenly eluding her, unsure of how to ask him while still giving him every possible out.
“Piano recitals are good. Maybe even soccer games. But I absolutely refuse to come to ballet recitals. All that pink tulle gives me hives.”
“Mmm, it’s very scratchy.” She smiled and realized he’d been thinking about this, too.
Without another word, he rose from the couch and lumbered towards her door. Pausing, he turned back to her with a troubled, serious expression. “Does this mean I can call you Big Momma?”
She laughed at that, much as she tried not to encourage him. “Go home, House.”
He winked at her before disappearing out the door.
****
Unsteady with nerves and precarious stiletto heels, she stepped into House’s office. He didn’t look up at her entrance, just continued to sit, slouching, with his feet on his desk and a cheap tabloid in front of his face. As she approached the desk, she was able to read the distressed, nearly illegible printing on his t-shirt, which proclaimed “ne travaille jamais” proudly to the world.
She could think of nothing more appropriate for the man in front of her. “Nice threads.”
“I thought you’d appreciate it.”
Leaning against his desk, she toyed with the fuzzy, oversized tennis ball that rested on the corner, studying her nail as it traced the curve of the seam. “Positive. I thought you’d like to know.”
He slapped the magazine down on his desk and looked at her with something approaching a genuine smile. “Does anyone else?”
“Know? No. I want to keep it quiet for a while, especially considering….” She didn’t have to finish the thought, just gesticulated in the space between them.
“Congratulations.” He did smile then, and she added it to the handful of times she’d seen him do so. When he smiled, she thought, he was almost handsome.
“Thank you.” It seemed so inadequate, a smile and thanks. Yet anything more was too much for them now.
For a moment they smiled, then, uneasy with this unusual circumstance, quickly broke away. House cleared his throat and she bounced the ball on the edge of the desk, then settled it and stepped away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Try to be on time for a change, huh?”
“Give me lateness or give me death.”
“That was liberty.”
“But it works better with lateness.”
She rolled her eyes and walked away, wondering what she’d committed herself to for the next eighteen years.
****
End Part 1
****