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  Three's a Triangle 
 by gena  

 

Three's a Triangle 

She drove around the block twice, the first time just to see if the lights
were on, the second time because she almost talked herself out of it. When
she finally parked she got out quickly and walked to the door with
determined steps. She had a moment's panic when she realized there were
two apartments but then she saw the name HOUSE over the bell for the one
on the left. Lisa Cuddy took a deep breath and ran a hand through her
hair, telling herself this was what she wanted. House had been right,
family mattered. She could have picked the best genes available and still
gotten it wrong. She wanted her child to be intelligent but she wanted
that indefinable something you couldn't learn from a set of papers. So
here she was outside House's door on the verge of asking him the most
important question of her life.

Cuddy closed her eyes and knocked. Then knocked again. And - again. She
heard an annoyed shout from inside then the faint tap of his cane. A
moment later the door was jerked open and House was glaring at her. "What
do you - oh," he frowned. "Cuddy? I am not coming into the hospital at
this hour - not on Fox Finale night."

"Is there anything more important to you than you TV shows?" 

"Not that I can think of," House said. She noticed he stepped back, not
exactly inviting her in but moving out of the way so she could squeeze by
if she wanted. She did. Once inside she took a moment to look around the
room. It felt warm and surprisingly cozy, lit by two small lamps glowing
on side tables and the TV set flickering nearly silent beside a fireplace.
The apartment was pretty much like she'd imagined; books piled haphazardly
everywhere, motorcycle magazines littering the floor around his chair,
musical instruments hanging on the walls, beer bottles and a pizza box
covering the coffee table and a tangle of video game players and joysticks
in front of the TV. It reminded her of his dorm room only this time he had
a gleaming piano in the corner and all he'd ever managed in college was a
portable keyboard. 

"Nice place," she commented.

"I had a decorator help," he said, tossing a few books onto the floor and
sinking down onto the sofa. "If you want a beer the fridge is in there,"
he jerked his head towards the kitchen, his attention on the TV. Cuddy
sighed and helped herself to a beer. When she came back to the living room
House had his feet up on the table and she had to step over his legs to
take a seat beside him. She could feel his eyes climb her thighs and
wished she'd worn slacks. "Change your mind?"

She almost choked on her beer. "A-about what?"

House gave her his best "stupid" face. "About becoming a nun. A vow of
piety would interfere with your ability to whore yourself out to big shot
donors and a vow of silence would cramp your style."

"You are the most disgusting human being I've ever met," she snapped. 

"Oh, is that why you're here," House asked, "to point out my deficiencies?
I thought you might be tallying up my attributes."

"Yes, like humility, compassion, empathy," Cuddy said with a sweet smile.
"Have I left any out?"

"Tall, dark and handsome,' House said. "Not so dark as Foreman, of course,
but I do tan nicely. Look pretty good in a swimsuit, too and I have longer
legs than Chase."

"I'm not here to compare you to your team members."

"You're not?" House sipped his beer, looking at her with innocent blue
eyes. "So why are you here?"

Now it was Cuddy's turn to sip her beer. She played a finger down the side
of the bottle, stalling as she formed the words first in her head. "I
want," she looked up at him, locking gazes. "I want you to father my
child." She could hear the tick of the clock even over the drone of the TV
he had playing quietly in the corner. But it was another faint sound, a
distant soft slap that made her turn her head. And when she did it was as
if a world she had secretly created for herself began to crumble. 

James Wilson padded barefoot towards the living room, his hair tousled,
and his eyes sleepy. He wore a faded t-shirt and sweat pants and looked
much younger than he did at the hospital. "Hey," he greeted softly. Cuddy
gulped, unable to form words. She'd known Wilson had moved in with House
after he and Julie broke up but that had only lasted a month before Wilson
moved on to his own place. What the hell was he doing here now and why did
he look as if he was sleeping here - in House's bedroom? She turned to
look at House. He was watching her with those damn blue eyes that saw
everything. 

"Wh- I,' Cuddy shook her head. House didn't even blink as Wilson perched
on the arm of the sofa beside him, his hand resting lightly on House's
shoulder. House merely reached up, his own hand unerringly closing on
Wilson's with a possessive grip. 

"Jimmy, Cuddy wants me to be her baby daddy," he said with a smirk.

Wilson's eyes widened and she could see him adding two plus two and
getting date but a moment later he gifted her with a self deprecating
grin. "I guess you like screwed-up men. Are you sure you'd want a kid like
House? It'd probably cost you a fortune in therapy before the kid grew
up."

Cuddy blinked. "But you - he - what about -" She couldn't think of how the
words should be strung together. 

"Oh, Jimmy wouldn't mind, would you?" House said.

Wilson shrugged and got to his feet. "Why should I?" He wandered off
towards the kitchen, returning with a bottle of water. "Uh, do you two
want," he gestured towards the bedroom. "I can sleep on the couch."

"No," Cuddy whispered. "No." She got to her feet. "I guess this was a
mistake. I didn't realize you two-" 

"We're not," House said. "Exactly."

Wilson nodded, hand flitting halfway to his neck before he self
consciously let it drop. "It's complicated." 

Cuddy stared at them. 

"We get together," House admitted, "When we want. It works for us, we
aren't jealous, we aren't committed, we just - are." He looked at Wilson,
smiling that rare smile of his. She could see Wilson's face a little
better in the lamp light and he smiled too, but there was something in his
eyes that told her it was more for him.

"That's okay," Cuddy said. "I don't want to rush this. I was just checking
out possibilities." House shrugged but there was a look of relief on
Wilson's face. She turned towards the door. "Oh, and House if I get even a
whiff of this around the hospital I will de-ball you," she warned with
something close to her normal vim. 

"And deprive future generations? Their loss." Cuddy closed the door behind
her and walked away just as determined as she'd arrived. House had shown
her that what looked good on paper wasn't always the best path to choose.
He hadn't wanted her to chose some anonymous stranger, advocating instead,
someone she liked. Still, he hadn't wanted her to choose Wilson as a
father either, that had been fairly clear, but why this display? She sat
in her car a moment, pondering the man's actions. Sometimes the
differences between what House said and what he did were the key to
understanding the complexities of his mind, and the way he viewed the
world. Maybe it wasn't genes that mattered; maybe it was who you chose to
be in your life. She'd wanted House's child because he was smart,
relentless, ambitious, arrogant and funny but he wanted something else. He
wanted what he had with Wilson - a sad, twisted relationship that she
feared would end badly for both men. But there was more - he was arrogant
and he was brilliant maybe there was a small part of him that wanted the
kind of immortality a child could bring. Cuddy shook her head, was it
possible to conceive a child with him and, if she let him have some say in
its rearing, figure Wilson into the equation? The thought boggled her mind
as she started the car but the further she drove towards home the less
bizarre and more appealing the idea became. This might be the best of both
worlds.  
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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.