"That's the best kind of club to get hit with," she said, grinning. He got downright dopey just after he'd climaxed and it was both amusing and sweet. Sometimes she was too blissed out herself to really enjoy his reaction but tonight she was a little more alert. She felt good--definitely satisfied--just not quite as overwhelmed by the post-orgasm endorphin high as she sometimes was.
She moved her fingers to his hair, playing with the sweat-dampened spikes around his face until he reached for her hand. She closed her eyes as he kissed her wrist, his lips almost ticklish against her soft skin. She was always touched when he made these small, affectionate gestures. She knew he was affectionate but he tried so hard to hide most of the time, even from her. Frankly, even if sex weren't so enjoyable for its own sake, it would still be worth it just to get him in the mood where he wasn't afraid to show his gentler side.
She draped her arms around his shoulders when he sat up, leaning in to kiss him slowly. She used the gentle press of their lips to tell him how grateful she was to have him home, to have him with her. "I know," she murmured when he told her he loved her. She knew that scared him, too, maybe now more than ever because he was so sensitive to thinking she would think he was a failure because of his problems. She wasn't sure he understood yet that she only loved him more for having had the courage to face his problems.
"Love you, too," she said. She leaned in further and rubbed her cheek against his as she continued talking in a low voice. "Love this irritating stubble. Love your completely childish sense of humor. Love your gray hair and your ticklish earlobes. Love your stubbornness. And these," she said, grasping his free hand in hers and lifting it to her cheek. "I love your hands." She nuzzled into his palm, placing a light kiss before raising her eyes to look at him. "Mostly, I just love that you love me, too."
He closed his eyes as Cuddy pressed her cheek to his. But he opened them again as she began listing the things she loved about him. Weirdly, it was a lot easier to hear negative things about him than positive. Negative things he expected. Negative things were what he thought of himself. Positive things... He'd never been used to hearing those. He'd never known how to take compliments other than to shrug them off or make some backhanded remark. That was his immediate reaction to what Cuddy was saying. At the same time, though, her words caused a warm buzz in him, mingling with the still buzzing afterglow of sex.
He looked down at his hand in hers as she kissed it, then rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone when she met his eyes. "That was incredibly sappy," he replied, half dismissing her compliments, half taunting her.
But he slipped his hand free then to run it through her hair, pushing it back. He did it a couple of times while gazing over her face. "So, does that mean it's my turn?" he asked. "Let's see. I love your boobs. I love your legs. I love your ass, especially in a tight skirt."
He could go on and on about how much he liked her boobs and her legs and her ass. Liking those assets of hers, and everything else on her body, was hardly news, however. And he didn't objectify her anywhere near as much as he made out he did. Cocking his head to the side so it was resting against his shoulder, he threaded his fingers through her hair again.
"And I love your hair," he continued, earnestly. "Particularly when it's curly and crazy." Releasing his hand from her hair, he drew a line down her forehead and down the bridge of her nose, down to her lips. "And I love these," he said, tracing the outline of her lips. "I don't love your stubbornness but you wouldn't be you if you weren't annoying me with your stubbornness, so I guess I technically love that, too."
He dropped his hand away and reached for her to lace their fingers together again. He gave it a squeeze, then moved it up to his mouth to kiss it once again, over the knuckles and the back of her hand, "Good thing you are stubborn," he said quietly, looking down at her hand in his. "Doubt I would have had you to come home to if you weren't."
Cuddy gave a faint eyeroll as House began listing the parts of her body he loved, none of which was news. He'd been fascinated by her breasts as long as she'd known him. She hadn't told him the things she loved about him to get compliments in return anyway. She'd told him because she thought he needed to hear it. She'd told him she loved some of the potentially less attractive things about him because she wanted him to understand she loved him, all of him.
Her expression softened when he kissed her hand. "House," she said quietly. She'd like to make some big declaration about how she'd never, ever leave him.... But she'd made it clear the night before he went to the hospital that there were limits. If she felt she needed to protect herself or--more importantly, their child--she would leave him and he knew it. And she knew she had to be honest with him about that.
"I am stubborn," she said, turning her hand to cup his cheek. She tilted his chin up, urging him to look at her. "And as long as there is the faintest hope of making this relationship work, I'll be here. As long as you're trying to get better and we're both working on making something good together, I'm not going to leave." She rubbed her thumb gently over his cheek. "I know that's not a 100% guarantee but it's pretty close given how stubborn I am."
She couldn't honestly give him a complete guarantee and she knew he'd probably focus on the .05% chance she'd leave rather than the 99.95% likelihood she'd stay. She realized he was probably always going to have a fear of being left. Cuddy was always going to have to deal with that part of Stacy's legacy. She could only hope therapy would help him to accept happiness was possible. Therapy and time, because surely the longer she stayed, the more he'd accept she was going to continue to stay.
She kissed him gently, then pulled back so she could see his face. "What's important is you are home now with me, and Junior, and your toys...." She frowned and started to look around as she remembered one particular toy. She started to snicker and shifted her leg to pull the edible panties from where they'd gotten ground down by her knee. She had to peel the slightly sticky panties from her skin and held them up in front of House.
"These might technically still be edible but I'm not sure they will ever funcion as panties again."
House was reluctant to meet her eyes, having admitted his fear of her leaving him. She hadn't left him yet, so that had to account for something. But yet was the key word. He wished he didn't hinge himself on pessimistic words like 'yet', but he couldn't help it. He was always, even if it was only a little, anticipating that something would go wrong.
Cuddy's 0.05% short of a 100% guarantee wasn't exactly encouraging. But even if she gave him a 100% guarantee, even a 110% guarantee, he'd still remain sceptical. He'd still anticipate that something would happen. In all honesty, that innate pessimism frustrated the hell out of him at times when he didn't want to be pessimistic. He kept having to remind himself that despite all the ugliness he and Cuddy had gone through together, she was still firmly by his side. But in his experience, everybody always left in the end. Besides, even if Cuddy promised him a 100% guarantee she'd never leave him, he'd have difficultly believing he was even worthy of that kind of promise.
He kept a tight lip on all those thoughts, however. Discussing the chances of her leaving him wasn't a subject he wanted to broach, especially not right now. He'd just made love with her after what felt like months, he was still relaxed from it, he was content as he could be and he was just glad Cuddy was right here with him, close to him. He'd worry about the chances of her leaving him another day.
"Hmm." He frowned at the now disfigured panties. "I was going to eat those," he said. He'd gotten so caught up in Cuddy, he'd forgotten all about that particular toy. He took them from her, dangling them from one finger. "So much for dessert."
Drawing the panties to him, he sniffed them, studied them and then tilted his head back with the panties raised over him to take a bite. He ripped off a bit of the 'material' and chewed, a thoughtful look on his face that quickly grew curious.
"You might be right about the acquired taste thing," he said. They tasted like tropical fruit but there was a distinctly synthetic tang to them as well. He shrugged. "Oh, well. Maybe next time I'll remember to eat them off you." Tossing the edible panties aside, he lowered himself to his back with a grunt and stretched out, flexing and stretching his arms until they felt looser and relaxed, and he went limp again with his arms sprawled out either side of him.
Cuddy made a face when House took a bite of the panties. She'd already given them a quick lick so she knew they weren't exactly a taste treat. She was sure they were fine when used as a little extra something during sex but they certainly weren't made for snacking. She wasn't surprised he'd tried them, though. His curiosity drove him to try everything. At least this time it wasn't going to get him into trouble.
"Next time, maybe I'll actually be a size where you'll be able to eat them off me," she said. Because seriously, edible panties weren't made with a pregnant woman in mind. Which was kind of a shame. Given the physical and even emotional challenges of pregnancy, a lot of pregnant women and their partners could probably use some fun little sex aids to keep the romance going. Cuddy began to wonder if some entrepeneurial soul had come up with a line of sex toys aimed at pregnant women, then she gave herself a shake and told herself to stop thinking about stuff like that.
She leaned over when he sprawled out on his back and gave him a quick kiss, and an even quicker tickle under the arm. After a playful tussle, she got away and crawled off the bed. She took a moment to stretch her legs out. She could tell they'd be a little sore in the morning but it had been worth it. A few achy muscles wasn't much to pay for being able to have a little more pre-parenthood sex.
She waddled off to the bathroom because, as usual, she had to pee. She cleaned herself up because while sex was great, having cold, sticky semen drying between her legs was not. She glanced up into the mirror when she was done and pulled a face at the way her make-up was half rubbed off. She didn't actually look clown-like but it wasn't pretty. She took a moment to wash her face clean and run a brush through her hair. Her skin still held a faint glow from their lovemaking and she actually looked prettier without any artificial attempts to enhance her appearance.
She grabbed a clean washcloth and wetted it with warm water. She took it back to the bedroom with her and sat down beside House on the bed. She gently cleaned little Greg, glancing at the bedside clock as she finished. Although it was still only mid-evening, it was getting late for her. She rarely made it past nine o'clock these days. She'd gotten used to an earlier bedtime while House was gone but she hated to give up that time now that he was home.
"Just so you know--you've probably only got about another hour of my undivided attention," she said, knowing it wouldn't matter how much she wanted to stay awake. Sooner rather than later, her body was going to insist on sleep. "After that, I'll be doing my Sleeping Beauty act."
House welcomed the kiss but her jerked to pull his arms close to him with an, "Argh!" when Cuddy attacked his armpits. He squirmed under the further attacks she laid on him, caught between protesting and letting out vulnerable laughs. He was ultra sensitive after sex; he had ticklish enough spots on a good day but after sex he was simply ticklish everywhere. In retaliation, he dashed a hand out and managed to give her armpit a quick but fierce tickle before he was rolling away from Cuddy, trying to curl up protectively from her onslaught of more tickling.
"I'll get you back," he warned her when she decided to leave him alone to go to the bathroom. He would, too. But now that his body had tensed up a bit from the tickling, he had to stretch out all over again... which he didn't mind. Sprawling out onto his back, he gave his arms and legs and back a stretch, twisting and flexing his limbs and joints until all the tickle-induced tension was squeezed out. Then he just lay there, staring contentedly up at the ceiling until Cuddy returned with a facecloth.
He lifted his head from the pillow to look down at what she was doing, then dropped his head back. "I figured," he replied. He started to yawn. "That's all right," he continued once his yawn subsided. "I can watch TV or read." Cuddy had plenty of books - if TV didn't keep his interest, he'd surely find something on her bookshelves that was interesting. Point was, no matter how tired he was, he wasn't going to give into it just yet, not on his first night of getting out. "Or maybe I'll buzz my monster truck around the house and crash it into everything."
That reminded him, though. He was due for a dose of prazosin. As Cuddy finished cleaning him up, he pushed himself to a sitting position. "Just remembered - gotta take my meds."
"No truck," Cuddy said immediately. "It's too noisy. You'll keep me up and believe me--you don't want to do that."
It was entirely possible she wouldn't sleep long anyway. She'd been sleeping in three or four hour stretches for some time now, waking when the baby got restless or her back started to hurt or whatever other little discomfort disturbed her. She needed the sleep she could get and anyone who interrupted it wasn't going to get a warm welcome.
"Okay," she said with a nod. She was relieved to see he was taking his treatment seriously. She knew he had been--he'd committed himself for heaven's sake--but she was a little worried he'd try to avoid it once he was no longer in a controlled environment. He didn't like therapy to begin with so it wouldn't be a surprise if he tried to skip his sessions with Megan or 'forget' to take his meds. This was only his first day home so he was probably still on his best behavior but she hoped he'd get into a routine where his treatment would become a habit.
She took the washcloth back to the bathroom and rinsed it out before leaving it on the side of the tub. She went back to the bedroom and slipped between the sheets. She piled her pillows against the headboard and reclined back, pulling the top sheet to her waist...or, what used to be her waist. She wasn't ready to sleep just yet but it seemed easier to stay in bed. That way, when she did find herself drifing off, she wouldn't have to find the energy to get herself back to bed.
"Are they helping?" she asked House. "The meds--do you think they've helped?"
While Cuddy went back to the bathroom, House got up and left the room for his bag still in the front hall. He picked it up and limped back to the bedroom, dumping on the floor by his side of the bed. Then he sat down, leaned over and rummaged around in the bag once he unzipped it to find his medication.
He was prying one of the little bright blue capsules out of its pocket when Cuddy returned. "You mean these?" He popped the pill onto his palm. "I haven't had a full-scale nightmare in a while. So, I guess they are."
He threw the pill into his mouth, pulling a face at the bitter taste that it immediately imprinted on his tongue. He'd forgotten to get a glass of water; getting up from the bed, he headed for the bathroom and when he got to the sink, he turned the tap on and cupped his hands under the water, drinking it to swallow the pill. Once he had, he quickly washed his face, dried it on a towel and picked up his toothbrush to scrub his teeth.
After he finished brushing his teeth, went to the toilet and washed his hands, he returned to the bedroom, back around to his side of the bed. He decided he'd leave the prazosin on the bedside table - if he was going to stay for a few nights, which he'd decided he would, he'd leave them in the open where he'd see them and remember to take them.
"If you mean my happy pills..." he continued, returning to Cuddy's question as he sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slouched.
He shrugged. Had he noticed a big change? Well, in some ways, yes. In some others, no. His problems hadn't gone away. He was still worried and troubled by a lot of things. But he wasn't in a constant state of feeling unsettled, like he was right on the edge of losing control. He didn't feel like he was drowning so much, either. Before, he'd felt weighted down with an incredible heaviness that made him feel like he was sinking right down to the bottom of an abyss he couldn't swim out of. The pills seemed to have taken away several of the weights pulling him down - he was nowhere near out of the waters yet, but at the very least he felt like he'd broken to the surface and could breathe a little better.
Cuddy was happy to hear he hadn't had one of his horrible nightmares lately. She knew he hated them, felt completely out of control when one took hold of his mind. They scared her, too. He'd get so deep into the nightmare he didn't know where he was or who was around him. After seeing a couple of them, she'd genuinely worried he might hurt himself unintentionally while in the grip of a nightmare. Later, when he'd confessed to feeling distraught enough to wish for death, she'd started worrying he'd injure himself intentionally.
She reached over and rubbed his back when he told her the anti-depressants were helping as well. She wasn't sure how he felt about that--about how the drugs affected him or even the fact he needed meds to begin with. For her, though, it was purely good news. With hindsight, she was able to see how overwhelmed he'd gotten by all his demons ganging up on him at once. A selfish part of her wished she could've helped, that she could've been enough to make him happy but objectively she understood that no one person could do that for him, not even himself. He needed the therapy and he needed the drugs. She was just glad they were actually working.
"I'm glad they're working. I feel better knowing this last month hasn't been for nothing. That would really be depressing." She rubbed his back a little more, then reached for his arm. "Come here," she said, tugging at him to come snuggle with her.
If he had it his way, none of this would have happened. That went without saying, of course. If he had it his way, he wouldn't need the medication, the therapy, the inpatient care, none of it. Technically, he did have it his way if he wanted to - if he wanted to, he could forego the therapy and the drugs and choose to battle on by himself. He was stubborn enough to, that was for sure. But he'd also seen how his troubles were so badly damaging his relationship with Cuddy. In a choice between battling on by himself and having Cuddy in his life, and his kid, he'd chosen to go with the latter.
He nodded slightly as Cuddy rubbed his back and said she was glad the meds were working. The concerns she voiced were the exact same ones he'd had, over and over again. Change was hard for him, especially when it came to this kind of change - accepting he had demons he needed to face and conquer. But he couldn't keep going the way he had. He could see that now.
As Cuddy tugged on his arm, he pushed back onto the bed, swung his legs up and turned in towards her as he scooted closer. He settled by her side with his arm curled around the base of her belly and his head tucked on her shoulder, just above her breast. He inhaled deeply and let out a slow breath.
He didn't say anything for a while. It was nice to simply lie with Cuddy and know he had all the time in the world to do so. For a short while, he even closed his eyes and listened to her breathing and the faint lub-dub of her heart beating. Eventually, he opened his eyes again and turned his head up against her shoulder so he was looking at her.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
He paused. He wanted to thank her for sticking by his side, for not leaving him, for helping him, for being tough with him, for not leaving him. For loving him.
Cuddy put her arm around his shoulder when he settled down next to her. It was nice to simply have him close where she could feel him, even smell a faint hint of his shampoo on his hair. All those times they'd been apart, not just the last month but all the times they'd been separated, she'd feared she'd never get to experience this again. Even when he'd been in the hospital, she'd worried he give up or he wouldn't get better or he'd get better but decide he didn't need her complicating her life. There were so many ways they could have fallen apart and having him here now was a gift. It wasn't one she took lightly either.
She rubbed her hand lightly over his shoulder and relaxed back against her pillows. She was enjoying the quiet when he suddenly turned his head. "You're welcome," she said, sounding almost hesitant. She hadn't done 'everything' so she wasn't sure she deserved his thanks. And she didn't want his thanks for the things she had done. She didn't ever want their relationship to become about what one of them had done or what one owed the other. She was with him because she loved him and she wanted him to be with her because he loved her.
She tucked her chin down to kiss him. "You're the one who's done all the hard work," she said, placing a second kiss to his forehead. She pulled her head back to look at him. "All I've done is wait. I'm good at that. I've been waiting for you for a long time."
Cuddy didn't sound like she believed him or was wary of his thanks, and he supposed he didn't blame her. After all, though he'd caused more than his share of problems to their relationship, Cuddy had contributed her share, too.
But the things she had done to help him and to stand by him was more than he deserved. She'd done more for him than he'd probably done for her, that was for sure. His more prominent memories of their relationship involved making Cuddy angry, making her sad, making her cry...
He tilted his head up a little further to meet her kiss. Going to hospital might have been hard work. It had definitely been a hard choice and an even harder adjustment. Cuddy had done a lot more for him than just wait. She'd been the one to hit him with the ultimatum that pushed him to seek help. She'd stuck by him, she'd put up with him, she'd tried to be patient with him. She'd also kept him employed, she'd bailed his ass out more times than he deserved, she looked out for him...
"You've done a lot more than that," he replied. He absently began caressing her belly, rubbing his fingers over the bed covers and running his palm in small, up and down strokes. He wasn't sure what she meant by waiting for him for a long time. There were a number of ways that could be interpreted and he wasn't sure which was the correct one.
Cuddy gave a small shrug. She had done a lot for House over the years both personally and professionally and it was nice to hear him acknowledge that. It was weird, though--as many times as she'd thought she'd like to hear him say "thank you," she found she didn't actually need his thanks. She'd chosen to protect and help him because she believed it was the right thing to do, not because she expected him to be grateful. In some strange way, it was as if whatever sacrifices she'd made meant more because she'd done them without expecting anything in return. Still, it was nice to know he did know what she'd done for him and he was grateful.
"I'm not sure," she said when he asked what she meant about waiting. She really didn't know. There had always been an attraction between them and she'd had fun with that, with the flirting and the innuendo, but she'd never allowed herself to admit to anything more than a superficial attraction. She'd suppressed any deeper feelings so strongly she wasn't sure any more when they'd begun.
"There was that one night, after Stacy left, and the way it ended I knew nothing was ever going to happen for us. But, being at least slightly self-destructive, I couldn't let it go," she said, idly tracing abstract patterns on his skin with her fingertip. It was older than that, though, maybe all the way back to university. There'd always been something about him that spoke to her. She suspected her years of unsuccessful dating were at least a little bit in part because she'd always been looking for someone like House. The trouble was, of course, there wasn't anyone like him. There was only the original.
"I think it started even before that. No, I know it started before that," she admitted. "I didn't want to want you. You're a great doctor but you were never relationship material. It didn't matter anyway because you weren't interested in me. Despite that, here I am, years later, feeling like for the first time in my life, I've finally got the one person who makes me whole."
House nestled his head more comfortably on Cuddy's shoulder, a slight frown forming as she talked. That night he and Cuddy had spent together had been a time he hadn't been able to let go of, either. It had happened at a time where everything in his life had turned upside down, from the infarction to Stacy leaving him. He'd pretended to everyone else that he was fine, that he'd moved on.
But really, he'd been anything but. The worst of it was the loneliness; he'd deserted everyone, Stacy had left him and he'd felt completely alone. For that one night with Cuddy, he felt for a little while that he belonged to someone again. Though he made certain to push Cuddy away from him in fear of her rejecting him more than anything, he'd been unable to let that night go at the same time.
His brows shot up in surprise at what Cuddy said next, about knowing her feelings for him and started long before anything had ever happened between them. He'd had secret fantasies that Cuddy had always been interested in him. There had always been an attraction between them but House was certain her attraction had never gone deeper than entertainment value. Still, he'd sometimes entertained fantasies that Cuddy had always had a thing for him, had always been interested in him.
It was true that he hadn't been interested in her during the years he was with Stacy - he hadn't been interested in anybody else aside from her, he'd been so ridiculously smitten. Once Stacy had left, however, there was a huge gaping hole in him and the closest thing he'd ever had to a relationship since was his and Cuddy's traded innuendos. That was where the fantasies of Cuddy always being interested in him began to surface. He fulfilled his needs, though, with hookers.
"Wow, that's a revelation," he said. He wasn't being sarcastic, either. He was genuinely surprised to hear her interest in him had run deep for years. Did he make her whole? He had a hard time believing he did - he hurt her more than he did her good. He didn't like hurting her, though. He didn't like himself when he did. In fact, he just plain didn't like himself.
He turned his head up against her shoulder again to look at her. "What makes you think I wasn't interested in you?"
Cuddy let out a soft laugh. It was a revelation, one that had been very slow in coming. Even now, she couldn't be completely sure what she'd felt and when she'd felt it. He'd been a major player in her life for so long but she'd tried so hard to keep him out of the center of her life. She'd decided he was bad news, at least on a personal level. Maybe that was a bit of sour grapes because he hadn't shown any real interest in her but there was still some truth to it. He was and always had been a difficult man and she'd conveniently convinced herself she wanted someone easy and normal...and boring.
She looked down at him when he asked why she thought he hadn't been interested. "Well, the fact you never tried to initiate anything was a clue," she said. "You never gave me any sign, not before Stacy, not after. You may have been interested in my breasts but you weren't interested in me."
It was more complicated than that, of course. It always was with him. He hadn't been interested in anyone after Stacy. Although she'd been hurt he never followed up on their one night together, with time she came to understand it wasn't her. He wouldn't have gotten into a relationship with anyone after Stacy. He was too wounded by her leaving.
It wasn't fair to say his only interest had been physical either. Yes, he had always enjoyed ogling her breasts or leering at her ass but if that had been all there was, he probably wouldn't have even remembered her name. And she certainly wouldn't have put up with his bull all these years. Something had clicked between them. They became friends and colleagues. They tormented each other but they also talked. They confided in each other. There'd always been some undefinable thing between them.
"It doesn't matter," she said, lifting her hand to stroke his hair. She let out a sigh and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before lowering her head to look at him again. "Even if you'd made a move years ago, I might've turned you down. I might've thought what the hell do I want with this crazy man?" She gave him a crooked smile. "Maybe we both needed to have the lives we've had separately before we were capable of seeing what we could have together. I'm just glad we did see it before it was too late."
"You never tried to initiate anything with me," he countered. "You never gave me any sign. You may have been interested in my big cane but you didn't seem the slightest bit interested in me, either."
Cuddy was right that he hadn't initiated anything with her... but neither had she, as he'd just pointed out. That she'd never pursued anything with him after their night together said to him she wasn't interested in taking things further. It was probably just as well in hindsight - he hadn't been in any place to have a relationship at that time. But it had admittedly hurt that she didn't seem to want anything further to do with him.
But like she said, it didn't matter anymore. That was back then and this was now. She probably would have turned him down. Fair enough, too, because he was a bastard that most sane women wouldn't want to have anything to do with in a million years. Proof that Cuddy was either insane or a masochist, or possibly both.
As she stroked his hair, House sighed and closed his eyes briefly. Maybe she was right that they'd needed to live their lives separately before realising what they were capable of having together. Better now than never. "Maybe," he agreed quietly.
He opened his eyes back up to Cuddy then. "But you're wrong, just so you know," he said. "About me not being interested in you."
She moved her fingers to his hair, playing with the sweat-dampened spikes around his face until he reached for her hand. She closed her eyes as he kissed her wrist, his lips almost ticklish against her soft skin. She was always touched when he made these small, affectionate gestures. She knew he was affectionate but he tried so hard to hide most of the time, even from her. Frankly, even if sex weren't so enjoyable for its own sake, it would still be worth it just to get him in the mood where he wasn't afraid to show his gentler side.
She draped her arms around his shoulders when he sat up, leaning in to kiss him slowly. She used the gentle press of their lips to tell him how grateful she was to have him home, to have him with her. "I know," she murmured when he told her he loved her. She knew that scared him, too, maybe now more than ever because he was so sensitive to thinking she would think he was a failure because of his problems. She wasn't sure he understood yet that she only loved him more for having had the courage to face his problems.
"Love you, too," she said. She leaned in further and rubbed her cheek against his as she continued talking in a low voice. "Love this irritating stubble. Love your completely childish sense of humor. Love your gray hair and your ticklish earlobes. Love your stubbornness. And these," she said, grasping his free hand in hers and lifting it to her cheek. "I love your hands." She nuzzled into his palm, placing a light kiss before raising her eyes to look at him. "Mostly, I just love that you love me, too."
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He looked down at his hand in hers as she kissed it, then rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone when she met his eyes. "That was incredibly sappy," he replied, half dismissing her compliments, half taunting her.
But he slipped his hand free then to run it through her hair, pushing it back. He did it a couple of times while gazing over her face. "So, does that mean it's my turn?" he asked. "Let's see. I love your boobs. I love your legs. I love your ass, especially in a tight skirt."
He could go on and on about how much he liked her boobs and her legs and her ass. Liking those assets of hers, and everything else on her body, was hardly news, however. And he didn't objectify her anywhere near as much as he made out he did. Cocking his head to the side so it was resting against his shoulder, he threaded his fingers through her hair again.
"And I love your hair," he continued, earnestly. "Particularly when it's curly and crazy." Releasing his hand from her hair, he drew a line down her forehead and down the bridge of her nose, down to her lips. "And I love these," he said, tracing the outline of her lips. "I don't love your stubbornness but you wouldn't be you if you weren't annoying me with your stubbornness, so I guess I technically love that, too."
He dropped his hand away and reached for her to lace their fingers together again. He gave it a squeeze, then moved it up to his mouth to kiss it once again, over the knuckles and the back of her hand, "Good thing you are stubborn," he said quietly, looking down at her hand in his. "Doubt I would have had you to come home to if you weren't."
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Her expression softened when he kissed her hand. "House," she said quietly. She'd like to make some big declaration about how she'd never, ever leave him.... But she'd made it clear the night before he went to the hospital that there were limits. If she felt she needed to protect herself or--more importantly, their child--she would leave him and he knew it. And she knew she had to be honest with him about that.
"I am stubborn," she said, turning her hand to cup his cheek. She tilted his chin up, urging him to look at her. "And as long as there is the faintest hope of making this relationship work, I'll be here. As long as you're trying to get better and we're both working on making something good together, I'm not going to leave." She rubbed her thumb gently over his cheek. "I know that's not a 100% guarantee but it's pretty close given how stubborn I am."
She couldn't honestly give him a complete guarantee and she knew he'd probably focus on the .05% chance she'd leave rather than the 99.95% likelihood she'd stay. She realized he was probably always going to have a fear of being left. Cuddy was always going to have to deal with that part of Stacy's legacy. She could only hope therapy would help him to accept happiness was possible. Therapy and time, because surely the longer she stayed, the more he'd accept she was going to continue to stay.
She kissed him gently, then pulled back so she could see his face. "What's important is you are home now with me, and Junior, and your toys...." She frowned and started to look around as she remembered one particular toy. She started to snicker and shifted her leg to pull the edible panties from where they'd gotten ground down by her knee. She had to peel the slightly sticky panties from her skin and held them up in front of House.
"These might technically still be edible but I'm not sure they will ever funcion as panties again."
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Cuddy's 0.05% short of a 100% guarantee wasn't exactly encouraging. But even if she gave him a 100% guarantee, even a 110% guarantee, he'd still remain sceptical. He'd still anticipate that something would happen. In all honesty, that innate pessimism frustrated the hell out of him at times when he didn't want to be pessimistic. He kept having to remind himself that despite all the ugliness he and Cuddy had gone through together, she was still firmly by his side. But in his experience, everybody always left in the end. Besides, even if Cuddy promised him a 100% guarantee she'd never leave him, he'd have difficultly believing he was even worthy of that kind of promise.
He kept a tight lip on all those thoughts, however. Discussing the chances of her leaving him wasn't a subject he wanted to broach, especially not right now. He'd just made love with her after what felt like months, he was still relaxed from it, he was content as he could be and he was just glad Cuddy was right here with him, close to him. He'd worry about the chances of her leaving him another day.
"Hmm." He frowned at the now disfigured panties. "I was going to eat those," he said. He'd gotten so caught up in Cuddy, he'd forgotten all about that particular toy. He took them from her, dangling them from one finger. "So much for dessert."
Drawing the panties to him, he sniffed them, studied them and then tilted his head back with the panties raised over him to take a bite. He ripped off a bit of the 'material' and chewed, a thoughtful look on his face that quickly grew curious.
"You might be right about the acquired taste thing," he said. They tasted like tropical fruit but there was a distinctly synthetic tang to them as well. He shrugged. "Oh, well. Maybe next time I'll remember to eat them off you." Tossing the edible panties aside, he lowered himself to his back with a grunt and stretched out, flexing and stretching his arms until they felt looser and relaxed, and he went limp again with his arms sprawled out either side of him.
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"Next time, maybe I'll actually be a size where you'll be able to eat them off me," she said. Because seriously, edible panties weren't made with a pregnant woman in mind. Which was kind of a shame. Given the physical and even emotional challenges of pregnancy, a lot of pregnant women and their partners could probably use some fun little sex aids to keep the romance going. Cuddy began to wonder if some entrepeneurial soul had come up with a line of sex toys aimed at pregnant women, then she gave herself a shake and told herself to stop thinking about stuff like that.
She leaned over when he sprawled out on his back and gave him a quick kiss, and an even quicker tickle under the arm. After a playful tussle, she got away and crawled off the bed. She took a moment to stretch her legs out. She could tell they'd be a little sore in the morning but it had been worth it. A few achy muscles wasn't much to pay for being able to have a little more pre-parenthood sex.
She waddled off to the bathroom because, as usual, she had to pee. She cleaned herself up because while sex was great, having cold, sticky semen drying between her legs was not. She glanced up into the mirror when she was done and pulled a face at the way her make-up was half rubbed off. She didn't actually look clown-like but it wasn't pretty. She took a moment to wash her face clean and run a brush through her hair. Her skin still held a faint glow from their lovemaking and she actually looked prettier without any artificial attempts to enhance her appearance.
She grabbed a clean washcloth and wetted it with warm water. She took it back to the bedroom with her and sat down beside House on the bed. She gently cleaned little Greg, glancing at the bedside clock as she finished. Although it was still only mid-evening, it was getting late for her. She rarely made it past nine o'clock these days. She'd gotten used to an earlier bedtime while House was gone but she hated to give up that time now that he was home.
"Just so you know--you've probably only got about another hour of my undivided attention," she said, knowing it wouldn't matter how much she wanted to stay awake. Sooner rather than later, her body was going to insist on sleep. "After that, I'll be doing my Sleeping Beauty act."
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"I'll get you back," he warned her when she decided to leave him alone to go to the bathroom. He would, too. But now that his body had tensed up a bit from the tickling, he had to stretch out all over again... which he didn't mind. Sprawling out onto his back, he gave his arms and legs and back a stretch, twisting and flexing his limbs and joints until all the tickle-induced tension was squeezed out. Then he just lay there, staring contentedly up at the ceiling until Cuddy returned with a facecloth.
He lifted his head from the pillow to look down at what she was doing, then dropped his head back. "I figured," he replied. He started to yawn. "That's all right," he continued once his yawn subsided. "I can watch TV or read." Cuddy had plenty of books - if TV didn't keep his interest, he'd surely find something on her bookshelves that was interesting. Point was, no matter how tired he was, he wasn't going to give into it just yet, not on his first night of getting out. "Or maybe I'll buzz my monster truck around the house and crash it into everything."
That reminded him, though. He was due for a dose of prazosin. As Cuddy finished cleaning him up, he pushed himself to a sitting position. "Just remembered - gotta take my meds."
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It was entirely possible she wouldn't sleep long anyway. She'd been sleeping in three or four hour stretches for some time now, waking when the baby got restless or her back started to hurt or whatever other little discomfort disturbed her. She needed the sleep she could get and anyone who interrupted it wasn't going to get a warm welcome.
"Okay," she said with a nod. She was relieved to see he was taking his treatment seriously. She knew he had been--he'd committed himself for heaven's sake--but she was a little worried he'd try to avoid it once he was no longer in a controlled environment. He didn't like therapy to begin with so it wouldn't be a surprise if he tried to skip his sessions with Megan or 'forget' to take his meds. This was only his first day home so he was probably still on his best behavior but she hoped he'd get into a routine where his treatment would become a habit.
She took the washcloth back to the bathroom and rinsed it out before leaving it on the side of the tub. She went back to the bedroom and slipped between the sheets. She piled her pillows against the headboard and reclined back, pulling the top sheet to her waist...or, what used to be her waist. She wasn't ready to sleep just yet but it seemed easier to stay in bed. That way, when she did find herself drifing off, she wouldn't have to find the energy to get herself back to bed.
"Are they helping?" she asked House. "The meds--do you think they've helped?"
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He was prying one of the little bright blue capsules out of its pocket when Cuddy returned. "You mean these?" He popped the pill onto his palm. "I haven't had a full-scale nightmare in a while. So, I guess they are."
He threw the pill into his mouth, pulling a face at the bitter taste that it immediately imprinted on his tongue. He'd forgotten to get a glass of water; getting up from the bed, he headed for the bathroom and when he got to the sink, he turned the tap on and cupped his hands under the water, drinking it to swallow the pill. Once he had, he quickly washed his face, dried it on a towel and picked up his toothbrush to scrub his teeth.
After he finished brushing his teeth, went to the toilet and washed his hands, he returned to the bedroom, back around to his side of the bed. He decided he'd leave the prazosin on the bedside table - if he was going to stay for a few nights, which he'd decided he would, he'd leave them in the open where he'd see them and remember to take them.
"If you mean my happy pills..." he continued, returning to Cuddy's question as he sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slouched.
He shrugged. Had he noticed a big change? Well, in some ways, yes. In some others, no. His problems hadn't gone away. He was still worried and troubled by a lot of things. But he wasn't in a constant state of feeling unsettled, like he was right on the edge of losing control. He didn't feel like he was drowning so much, either. Before, he'd felt weighted down with an incredible heaviness that made him feel like he was sinking right down to the bottom of an abyss he couldn't swim out of. The pills seemed to have taken away several of the weights pulling him down - he was nowhere near out of the waters yet, but at the very least he felt like he'd broken to the surface and could breathe a little better.
"Yeah, they're helping."
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She reached over and rubbed his back when he told her the anti-depressants were helping as well. She wasn't sure how he felt about that--about how the drugs affected him or even the fact he needed meds to begin with. For her, though, it was purely good news. With hindsight, she was able to see how overwhelmed he'd gotten by all his demons ganging up on him at once. A selfish part of her wished she could've helped, that she could've been enough to make him happy but objectively she understood that no one person could do that for him, not even himself. He needed the therapy and he needed the drugs. She was just glad they were actually working.
"I'm glad they're working. I feel better knowing this last month hasn't been for nothing. That would really be depressing." She rubbed his back a little more, then reached for his arm. "Come here," she said, tugging at him to come snuggle with her.
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He nodded slightly as Cuddy rubbed his back and said she was glad the meds were working. The concerns she voiced were the exact same ones he'd had, over and over again. Change was hard for him, especially when it came to this kind of change - accepting he had demons he needed to face and conquer. But he couldn't keep going the way he had. He could see that now.
As Cuddy tugged on his arm, he pushed back onto the bed, swung his legs up and turned in towards her as he scooted closer. He settled by her side with his arm curled around the base of her belly and his head tucked on her shoulder, just above her breast. He inhaled deeply and let out a slow breath.
He didn't say anything for a while. It was nice to simply lie with Cuddy and know he had all the time in the world to do so. For a short while, he even closed his eyes and listened to her breathing and the faint lub-dub of her heart beating. Eventually, he opened his eyes again and turned his head up against her shoulder so he was looking at her.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
He paused. He wanted to thank her for sticking by his side, for not leaving him, for helping him, for being tough with him, for not leaving him. For loving him.
"For everything."
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She rubbed her hand lightly over his shoulder and relaxed back against her pillows. She was enjoying the quiet when he suddenly turned his head. "You're welcome," she said, sounding almost hesitant. She hadn't done 'everything' so she wasn't sure she deserved his thanks. And she didn't want his thanks for the things she had done. She didn't ever want their relationship to become about what one of them had done or what one owed the other. She was with him because she loved him and she wanted him to be with her because he loved her.
She tucked her chin down to kiss him. "You're the one who's done all the hard work," she said, placing a second kiss to his forehead. She pulled her head back to look at him. "All I've done is wait. I'm good at that. I've been waiting for you for a long time."
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But the things she had done to help him and to stand by him was more than he deserved. She'd done more for him than he'd probably done for her, that was for sure. His more prominent memories of their relationship involved making Cuddy angry, making her sad, making her cry...
He tilted his head up a little further to meet her kiss. Going to hospital might have been hard work. It had definitely been a hard choice and an even harder adjustment. Cuddy had done a lot more for him than just wait. She'd been the one to hit him with the ultimatum that pushed him to seek help. She'd stuck by him, she'd put up with him, she'd tried to be patient with him. She'd also kept him employed, she'd bailed his ass out more times than he deserved, she looked out for him...
"You've done a lot more than that," he replied. He absently began caressing her belly, rubbing his fingers over the bed covers and running his palm in small, up and down strokes. He wasn't sure what she meant by waiting for him for a long time. There were a number of ways that could be interpreted and he wasn't sure which was the correct one.
"What do you mean?" he asked her.
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"I'm not sure," she said when he asked what she meant about waiting. She really didn't know. There had always been an attraction between them and she'd had fun with that, with the flirting and the innuendo, but she'd never allowed herself to admit to anything more than a superficial attraction. She'd suppressed any deeper feelings so strongly she wasn't sure any more when they'd begun.
"There was that one night, after Stacy left, and the way it ended I knew nothing was ever going to happen for us. But, being at least slightly self-destructive, I couldn't let it go," she said, idly tracing abstract patterns on his skin with her fingertip. It was older than that, though, maybe all the way back to university. There'd always been something about him that spoke to her. She suspected her years of unsuccessful dating were at least a little bit in part because she'd always been looking for someone like House. The trouble was, of course, there wasn't anyone like him. There was only the original.
"I think it started even before that. No, I know it started before that," she admitted. "I didn't want to want you. You're a great doctor but you were never relationship material. It didn't matter anyway because you weren't interested in me. Despite that, here I am, years later, feeling like for the first time in my life, I've finally got the one person who makes me whole."
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But really, he'd been anything but. The worst of it was the loneliness; he'd deserted everyone, Stacy had left him and he'd felt completely alone. For that one night with Cuddy, he felt for a little while that he belonged to someone again. Though he made certain to push Cuddy away from him in fear of her rejecting him more than anything, he'd been unable to let that night go at the same time.
His brows shot up in surprise at what Cuddy said next, about knowing her feelings for him and started long before anything had ever happened between them. He'd had secret fantasies that Cuddy had always been interested in him. There had always been an attraction between them but House was certain her attraction had never gone deeper than entertainment value. Still, he'd sometimes entertained fantasies that Cuddy had always had a thing for him, had always been interested in him.
It was true that he hadn't been interested in her during the years he was with Stacy - he hadn't been interested in anybody else aside from her, he'd been so ridiculously smitten. Once Stacy had left, however, there was a huge gaping hole in him and the closest thing he'd ever had to a relationship since was his and Cuddy's traded innuendos. That was where the fantasies of Cuddy always being interested in him began to surface. He fulfilled his needs, though, with hookers.
"Wow, that's a revelation," he said. He wasn't being sarcastic, either. He was genuinely surprised to hear her interest in him had run deep for years. Did he make her whole? He had a hard time believing he did - he hurt her more than he did her good. He didn't like hurting her, though. He didn't like himself when he did. In fact, he just plain didn't like himself.
He turned his head up against her shoulder again to look at her. "What makes you think I wasn't interested in you?"
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She looked down at him when he asked why she thought he hadn't been interested. "Well, the fact you never tried to initiate anything was a clue," she said. "You never gave me any sign, not before Stacy, not after. You may have been interested in my breasts but you weren't interested in me."
It was more complicated than that, of course. It always was with him. He hadn't been interested in anyone after Stacy. Although she'd been hurt he never followed up on their one night together, with time she came to understand it wasn't her. He wouldn't have gotten into a relationship with anyone after Stacy. He was too wounded by her leaving.
It wasn't fair to say his only interest had been physical either. Yes, he had always enjoyed ogling her breasts or leering at her ass but if that had been all there was, he probably wouldn't have even remembered her name. And she certainly wouldn't have put up with his bull all these years. Something had clicked between them. They became friends and colleagues. They tormented each other but they also talked. They confided in each other. There'd always been some undefinable thing between them.
"It doesn't matter," she said, lifting her hand to stroke his hair. She let out a sigh and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before lowering her head to look at him again. "Even if you'd made a move years ago, I might've turned you down. I might've thought what the hell do I want with this crazy man?" She gave him a crooked smile. "Maybe we both needed to have the lives we've had separately before we were capable of seeing what we could have together. I'm just glad we did see it before it was too late."
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Cuddy was right that he hadn't initiated anything with her... but neither had she, as he'd just pointed out. That she'd never pursued anything with him after their night together said to him she wasn't interested in taking things further. It was probably just as well in hindsight - he hadn't been in any place to have a relationship at that time. But it had admittedly hurt that she didn't seem to want anything further to do with him.
But like she said, it didn't matter anymore. That was back then and this was now. She probably would have turned him down. Fair enough, too, because he was a bastard that most sane women wouldn't want to have anything to do with in a million years. Proof that Cuddy was either insane or a masochist, or possibly both.
As she stroked his hair, House sighed and closed his eyes briefly. Maybe she was right that they'd needed to live their lives separately before realising what they were capable of having together. Better now than never. "Maybe," he agreed quietly.
He opened his eyes back up to Cuddy then. "But you're wrong, just so you know," he said. "About me not being interested in you."
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