#buildup

At the bottom of her mug, remnants of herbal tea leaves were freckling the base. That final sip was always so gritty. Lisa Cuddy stood, feeling the little evening time she had somehow managing to drag. In the empty house, the lateness did her no good. Itchy feet and mind, she always struggled to occupy herself outside of the hospital. She was coming out of budgeting crunch time, the dreaded period of intensified work where she had to connect the dots between numbers and departments, from the moment she woke til her head hit the pillow in her plump housekeeper-kept bed. Her fortieth birthday was coming up, she thought to her surprise, since it wasn't particularly soon and she had always told herself that her age was irrelevant to her; what mattered was how she spent that time. Okay, and which outfits she wore. Time spent on her wardrobe aside, in Cuddy's mind, her hospital duties were her purpose. Being Dean of Medicine was so woven into her identity that she had never ventured to daydream outside of the esteemed title that she wore so proudly. Perhaps she was too scared to imagine what could be better than what she had worked so hard to build. Being dean was undoubtedly the highest rung of the ladder, reached bedazzlingly young into her career, undeniably impressive. Not even her mother could argue with that, though she tried. Nothing could be better than that, surely. Yes, she kept telling herself, the tight emotion in her chest, the one that felt like it could shatter if looked at too closely, was just leftover stress from the intensity of her job. It's only natural that she would feel a discomfort creeping in when moments of rare silence came in gasps. Everyone had that, definitely her colleagues. She could picture them, getting home and reeling from the life-or-death-ness of their work. Yes, and on top of the vicarious trauma of managing patients, she had just crunched numbers for several weeks to get the budget straightened up on time. Anyone would be uneasy to have 'free time' after that,  anyone would struggle to know what to do with it. She pushed away the inconvenient fact that she knew she had always felt this way, incomplete on a deeper level, far before deciding on a career that could turn her uneasiness into a normality she could rationalise. Something had always been shoved deep, deep down.

A flicker of a memory surfaced itself, and she frowned at the interruption, the intensity of it unnerving her further. A memory from her teenage self, standing by her father on a sidewalk in the city centre, watching him hail a taxi with an impatient bark, watching one pull up and two women stepping out from the back, straightening their coats and smiling at one another, strangely intimate then-- kissing each other, only lightly, but for too long to be between friends, without a doubt. One woman's hand went to the other's cheek, the other the waist, reciprocated between them as they smiled into the kiss. The whole exchange was seconds, but nervously her eyes jumped to her father as he exclaimed disgust and dragged her by the arm away from the taxi that was now pulling up to him. A spat remark from him about the cab being ‘contaminated by filth’, her stumbling after him while trying to process the mixture of bewilderment she was feeling at his response and the adrenaline that had shot through her while witnessing the two women. 

In her living room, Cuddy mustered up the explanation she told herself every time this flash of a memory and its feelings ambushed her; his reaction had made her jump, and the women's openness was surprising in such a busy area, in broad daylight. She was not homophobic, despite her father's best efforts - she prided herself on her morality and liberalism. Her father was just old-fashioned and had been in a bad mood. Frustration now rose in her; why was this explanation not enough to banish this memory from haunting her? What was so special about it? Why wouldn't it just leave her alone?

She wasn't some kind of pervert. Her lack of control over the memory had shaken her. It made the chinks in her carefully constructed sense of self seem glaringly obvious. It made her very uncomfortable to think that she couldn't stop thinking of those women. She knew lesbians, or of them, and she knew Doctor Hadley, constantly aware of her bisexuality thanks to House, and again she prided herself on being appropriately professional with her, never mentioning the topic, but glaring at House when he gleefully dropped teasing remarks about her swinging both ways. She did everything right. She slept with men when the tightness in her chest felt like it was going to snap. And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that seeing those women gave her, creeping back in like a stain that wouldn’t wash out in the otherwise perfectly ironed and whitened sheet of her mind, in every moment of silence that her mind was allowed to wander. 

This feeling of unease sat with her while she washed up, a task that grounded her while her dishwasher went unused. Her annoyance at her own mind's inconsistencies worsened while she brushed her teeth, flossed carefully, then swilled diluted mouthwash. While she moisturised her face and read a few pages of a crime novel, winding down in the lamplight the same as every night, it sat and bore a hole in her head, sores forming around the feeling that wouldn't leave her alone. She pressed play on her rain soundscape CD, in her stereo by her bed, and forcefully tucked herself down, praying for sleep to take over. And thanks to the exhaustion she made sure to drill into herself every day, it did. 

The next day at the hospital involved the usual, plus a sense of returning to a more normal chaos after the budgeting period. It made her feel more like her usual self to be on a tight leash of her own making. She mentioned her relief to House's team as a warning to especially not test her patience today in case they burst her bubble, knowing that this would only encourage more mischief but hoping for the opposite. Later in her office, after drowning in paperwork for House's latest drama, Thirteen knocked and entered. Cuddy pointed her tired eyes at her, expecting an infuriating update on the case that would keep her working late tonight, as always. To her total surprise, Thirteen offered an invite for a celebratory drink with the team tonight since the case had been abruptly solved. Cuddy's eyebrows raised and she let her shoulders relax at the unexpectedly good news, placing her pen down on the desk and lifting her head off of her hand, which had been massaging her temple. 

"You cracked it already? What happened?"

"Chase somehow had an answer that House didn't. It was actually lupus, and none of us took that seriously until he ran some extra tests, first time was a false negative. Anyway, House is bouncing his ball against his office wall and we all thought we should get out for once, but none of us know anyone else to meet, but I thought I'd go insane unless someone non-testosterone-infested came along. Chase is gloating like crazy. Are you free? Before House realises we've all left?"

Cuddy smiled politely but started to decline, 

"I have a ton more paperwork to get through, but thank you Doctor Hadley." She picked up her pen again, looking back towards the stack on her desk. She sighed. "Though I can't argue with needing to get out of this hospital." The words 'burnt out' popped into her head but she kept shtum, aware of her indecision hanging in the air. 

"Come on, Lisa." Thirteen ventured, pitying the woman despite Cuddy's outward steeliness. Cuddy's head snapped back to face her at the sound of her first name, and her smile softened, despite herself. An image of a glistening bar and drinks beckoned her, giving her a reason to avoid returning to her empty house. 

"Alright."

—-----------------------------------------

Several hours later, Chase and Foreman had knocked back their drinks and slurred their goodbyes, leaving Cameron, Cuddy and Thirteen in each other’s unfamiliarly female company. None of them were used to the dynamic, and Cuddy felt her professionalism winning over her tipsiness to break the slight air of awkwardness. 

"Just us left, ladies!" It felt weird even as she said it. She cleared her throat. "Come on, I'm not your boss in this place," she laughed awkwardly, totally unsure how to proceed. She felt like an alien. "So what's been going on with you both? How are your, uh, men?" She winced internally at the total inanity of the question. She knew she was rusty with actual, personal, socialising but this was excruciating. She knew the others were also workaholics and she could guess what their answers would be. Thirteen was dating Foreman, it was going poorly judging by their snappiness at each other at work, and Cameron was dating Chase. Old news. Oh-so-much coworker-incest. Her cheeks began to flush at the confusion of being unprepared, as though she was failing to pitch to donors instead of hanging out in a bar with two of the only women she actually knew and spoke to on a regular basis in her life. She pulled at her tights under her thigh, digging her nails into a ladder that had sprung open, and sipped her drink with the other hand. Thirteen broke the awkwardness with a smirk.

"I'm sure you know more than you ever wanted to about us already, thanks to House. You tell us! You're a closed book, Lisa." Her words seemed accusatory but her face was kind, trying to smooth out the forced intimacy of the conversation without letting Cuddy deflect. 

Cuddy appreciated the effort but was still finding her words, not expecting to have to talk again so soon. "I'm- well, honestly, I haven't been out much lately." She started on her shpiel about the budgeting she had been working on but Cameron cut her off:

"I'm sorry to be blunt, but I don't think I can take any more work-talk after today… Lisa.” There was a fraction of an awkward moment before she decided to use her name. “I was roped into House's differential more than I was happy with. As always." she repeated, a mix of slight embarrassment at admitting having caved, and genuine exhaustion flashing across her face before she reached a hand out across the bar in a peace offering. 

Cuddy nodded, pushing down her embarrassment, "No, of course, I'm sorry. I totally understand. I think I need another drink to loosen up." They all smiled, and made several more attempts at small talk before Cuddy's next drink arrived and she sipped it. The weather was dangerously close to being discussed. Finally, she readied herself,

"Okay, I've been mostly having one night stands, once I can't ignore the tension in my shoulders I get from dealing with House over weeks - or months, whatever - " she trailed off. Cameron tried to encourage this rare personal thread from Cuddy;

"No one you’re seeing regularly? No idea why, but I can just picture that you'd have someone to come home to. You seem to have it all figured out." No malice was in her words, since she genuinely was curious to see behind the facade that she was surprised to be learning hid far less than it seemed. Cuddy always seemed untouchable, one of those people whose lives were primed from beginning to end to be as smooth and, well, possible, as possible. To her, Cuddy seemed like the kind of woman for whom every opportunity in her life would become reality, as long as she wanted it. Cuddy felt the image of herself she carefully held in front of her for others to see, start to change shape in her hands. She was remembering why she avoided socialising. But by now the drink was softening her, letting her loosen her grip on this image that she told herself she needed to care about.

"No, I can’t stand guys coming back to mine most of the time," Cuddy gave a small smile, "I mean, at the moment. I can’t bear the idea of babysitting another man at home as well as at work." 

Wry acknowledgement bounced around them. That seemed fair enough. Cuddy felt bolder again, and kept going, "Always been confused about the whole living together thing anyway. Putting it on and going along with a one night stand every once is a while is one thing, but I don't think I could keep it up full time, in my home. In my own bed!" She laughed, anticipating the others' laughter - which was a lot more forced than she expected. Her smile wavered as Cameron and Thirteen shared a microscopic glance. 

"What do you mean?" Cameron said. A beat. 

"What do YOU mean?" Cuddy responded, genuinely bewildered. 

“You never bring guys home?” Thirteen blurted out, tilting her head down, far too curious.

Cameron ignored her and answered Cuddy. "You said 'putting it on'. I know it’s rough out there, but what kind of guys are you seeing?" Cameron let out a small laugh, unsure and a bit nervous at the miscommunication. 

Cuddy felt shame creeping in once again, the familiar uneasiness in the back of her mind stirring. A sense of something being not quite right within her despite all her best efforts was rearing its head, though the alcohol. 

"Oh I was only exaggerating, Allison! I just mean I don't want to give up my home comforts just yet. It can’t be surprising to you that I’m a bit of a neat freak." As she said it, her eyes caught Thirteen's, who was slightly smiling but seemed to look straight through Cuddy, into the pit in the back of her mind where the uneasiness was tossing. “I just don’t like their - uh.” She wished she had ignored Thirteen’s question but mustered the confidence to respond, matter of factly, and as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t like the smell.”

“Of… men?” Thirteen said, excruciatingly slowly.

“No, I mean, the unfamiliarity, in my comfy bed. Come on! You know what men are like. Even when I make them shower, they just… smell.”

Cameron softened, amused. She assumed Cuddy was joking. A worried furrow in her eyebrows disappeared and she laughed. “Sure, Lisa. But seriously, I understand the need for personal space. Me and Rob’s home lives are still pretty separate. I don’t even like the idea of his clothes being in my drawers." She widened her eyes and looked to the side as she sipped sheepishly, satisfied to have said it. She was relieved to feel relatively normal, relationship wise, compared to whatever Cuddy was rambling about.

The women all smiled, politely letting the topic die. Cuddy and Thirteen ordered another round, Cuddy especially desperate for more alcoholic relief, but Cameron declined; "I'm sad to leave just as we start peeling back Cuddy’s, uh, layers.” She struggled to describe what had just happened  “But speaking of the guy, Rob just texted me that he’s bored." She rolled her eyes but smirked. "He may be a manchild sometimes, but he ordered my favourite takeout to lure me there." 

Cuddy sighed and held up a hand, tilting her head down, "Okay, enough about him, my self restraint to not insult him is almost out." Cameron pushed her shoulder lightly in fake annoyance while Thirteen laughed loudly, then tried to cover it, as Cameron narrowed her eyes and smiled at her sharply.

Cuddy stood to hug Cameron, feeling a need to smooth the awkwardness of their interaction over further. She tried to push away the anger at herself for being so bizarre, and put it down to their age differences in her mind. Pulling away, she flattened her skirt down, holding her hands together while Cameron and Thirteen politely quickly hugged goodbye. She waved slightly as Cameron clacked to the exit through some groups dotted around the bar, and felt eyes on her until she turned back to face Thirteen. She was looking at her with the curiosity of earlier in her eyes, as if she knew something and was working out how to bring it up.

“What?” said Cuddy, a little too quickly. 

“Are you okay?” Thirteen said, finally, unable to distract herself enough to change the subject, “I know you said you don’t get out much, but you can switch off here at least, you know.”

Cuddy started to get defensive, “I know that! I mean, I am switched off, this is me switching off-” she caught herself, then exhaled, looking down into her drink. She had been counting the units of alcohol she’d been drinking tonight in the back of her head, and she imagined the number swirling in the glass. 

“I know what you mean. About being with men having to be a kind of- performance. I think that part is sometimes why I like it.” Thirteen began, quieter and gentler. “I like being someone different for a night, getting lost in it. The sex helps, too.” She smiled again, looking to see Cuddy’s reaction.

“Exactly! The sex is just sometimes, you know, it requires some managing. I have to tell them what I want all the time, they never just know. Surely you get that too?” Cuddy offered, trying to seem relaxed.

“I mean, yeah, but that’s more the beginning, then eventually there’s more of a rhythm. Honestly though, I’m not that picky. I like the thrill most of all anyway. The escapism,” Thirteen continued explaining. “I just love bodies, people, I don’t always  know what it is specifically. But it’s all just got to be fun, for me.”

“Well, you’re more… free about it all anyway. Like, you have more options to pick from before anything even happens.” Internally, Cuddy was scrambling to piece the straightest-sounding sentences together that she could muster. “You have to settle less, right? It’s got to be different with, uh, with women?” She was shocked that she had to consciously slow herself down as she asked, and stop herself from staring intensely at Thirteen for the answer. She looked into the glass again, then up at the bartender walking past, nodding and lifting her glass for another, acting more casual than she felt. She wasn’t used to this kind of specificity when talking about - well, anything personal, but especially her sex life. She felt a buzz in her veins that she tried to tell herself wasn’t there. Why was she so excited? Was she really this starved for intimacy? No, she was just letting go, she told herself. Having fun. She noticed her vision spinning slightly and wondered how long it had been doing that. She couldn’t remember her unit count by now.

Thirteen stifled a small smirk. “Oh, it’s different in a lot of ways. But again, it’s all fun to me. Some days I’d rather just, you know, top a guy. It’s great. With Eric-” she stopped herself, realising how much the alcohol had reached her head too, and laughed, “I mean, he’s great. I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything, if you were wondering. Ok, maybe emotionally, but that’s kinda both of us. I more meant, like, physically, I’m satisfied.”

“Okay, okay.” Cuddy raised a hand, laughing too now. “I get it!” But she paused, disbelieving. “Really though?”

“You haven’t experimented much, have you?” Thirteen interrupted. Cuddy felt taken aback, her mind jumping from defensive to startled to, god forbid, exhilarated. 

She scoffed, incredulous. “Yes, I have, Remy, please. I’ve had plenty more time than you have to shop around.” She felt a pang of nerves after she said it, realising the context of Thirteen’s shortened lifespan. She took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean in terms of- I’m just picky, that’s all.”

“Lisa, I don’t mean with men.” Thirteen sighed, recognising the comment as accidental and jokingly returning the sternness of the use of her first name.

That shut her up. She truly had no response, though she tried a few, “Well, obviously not with-” She stammered uncharacteristically “...women…I’m just not into that, Remy, honestly. I would know if I was, I’m nearly forty for god’s sake!” She threw her hands in the air, sloshing her drink a bit too much, some of it splashing onto the bar. She felt her cheeks flush red and her embarrassment grew again.

“Oh, my mistake, so you have tried? You know, since you’re so sure.” Thirteen teased, loving the state she was getting Cuddy into without even trying. She knew she could recognise a closet case from a mile away, she was just kicking herself for not clocking Cuddy earlier.

“Remy, I swear to god.” Cuddy tried one more time to be serious, before bursting out laughing. “Okay. Okay, I’ll prove it, is that what you want? We’re not all perverted like you!” She was clearly projecting, far more blatantly than she realised, and was shocked at how it sounded, but Thirteen laughed louder. She continued, “Do you know a bar, then? A LESBIAN bar?” She made sure to say the word louder than the others, defying the satisfied grin on Thirteen’s face that betrayed how much she was loving Cuddy’s flusteredness.