Fic: Spine
Title: Spine
Author: nomad1328
Rating: PG
Summary: He has a right to silence today. He's not a hero.
Characters: House & Cuddy
Thanks to joe_pike_junior (again) for the beta work and for the prompt!
Beads of sweat, sliding slow past imperfect skin and the thinnest of hairs, glimmer in the yellow light of his bathroom. Light refracts off the freckled skin, shards caught on imperceptible indentations. His shirt, soaked, lands on the tile with a thwap. Cuddy, standing awkward with her hand against the wall in the dimmed light of the hallway, moves in closer as House bends over the tub to turn on the water. She can see the wince from here, the way he pauses when his fingers are halfway between the edge and the faucet, the way his left hand goes towards the round above his hip, fingers pressed in on loose skin. She expects that.
Cuddy is not a hesitant woman, but when he's involved, the trait emerges. Maybe it's latent, covered with years of telling herself that she can and will get what she wants. Or maybe it's just him; the hesitancy manifests in the relationship between them. There's too much there and maybe not enough. She works hard to find the pinnacle on which they can both stand upright. That's why she finds herself now, with a hand on his lower back, helping him to sit on the edge of the tub. His hands go straight to his knees at first, clamping down on the bony prominances, leaving white spots. She swears she sees his left hand tremble as he moves it to the edge of the tub to steady himself.
“You're exhausted.” It's an excuse that she gives him, to fill the air between them and allow him a moment to regain his resolve. She won't look at him just yet, so she turns on the taps, adjusts the temperature.
“Make it hot,” he says, his face still pointed towards his knees and his voice grating over the rush of the water hitting porcelin. It's the first thing he's said to her since they left the hospital. He has a right to silence today. He's not a hero. But then again...
Cuddy turns the hot water up a notch and stands back to look at him for a moment. His breaths are too heavy, his naked chest rising with great gasps that must be a combination of fatigue and pain. She hasn't seen him swallow any pills since she pulled him out of there. He's paid a greater price than they could've anticipated. His inaction now is a tell.
The tub begins to fill and House stands again, not once looking at Cuddy. He turns his back to her, and she can see a purpling bruise in the middle of the left Latissimus Dorsi. He'll need ice for that later, among other things. She'll call something in, have someone deliver it.
“You planning on joining? Or is watching your thing?”
She crosses her arms as his left eye peers at her from over his shoulder. One day, she thinks, when he grows up, if that ever happens. She appreciates that he's done this. But even so, it's not enough to lure her into lust.
“I'll be in the kitchen.”
She busies herself with trying to make Ramen edible in the sparseness of House's kitchen. She settles on defrosting a zip-locked chicken breast that doesn't have too much freezer burn, and throwing in some already wilting spinach that Wilson must have bought. By the time she's throwing in the cheese, House emerges from the bath, smelling like soap, but still pale and moving much slower than when he bounced in through her office doors this morning.
“Where are my pills?”
She pulls the new prescription from her pocket and hands him the bottle. She forces her eyes away as he swallows them dry. He looks at the steam coming from the stovetop and deliberately sniffs the air. He doesn't look pleased, but he sits on the stool next to the table and fingers a thin cut on his right knuckle, apparently waiting for Cuddy to serve him. She spoons the mixture into bowls and puts one in front of him, watching the steam rise, watching House relish the warm scent of comfort food.
“You shouldn't have done it, House.”
He nods once, takes a spoonful of noodles. "I know."
Author: nomad1328
Rating: PG
Summary: He has a right to silence today. He's not a hero.
Characters: House & Cuddy
Thanks to joe_pike_junior (again) for the beta work and for the prompt!
Beads of sweat, sliding slow past imperfect skin and the thinnest of hairs, glimmer in the yellow light of his bathroom. Light refracts off the freckled skin, shards caught on imperceptible indentations. His shirt, soaked, lands on the tile with a thwap. Cuddy, standing awkward with her hand against the wall in the dimmed light of the hallway, moves in closer as House bends over the tub to turn on the water. She can see the wince from here, the way he pauses when his fingers are halfway between the edge and the faucet, the way his left hand goes towards the round above his hip, fingers pressed in on loose skin. She expects that.
Cuddy is not a hesitant woman, but when he's involved, the trait emerges. Maybe it's latent, covered with years of telling herself that she can and will get what she wants. Or maybe it's just him; the hesitancy manifests in the relationship between them. There's too much there and maybe not enough. She works hard to find the pinnacle on which they can both stand upright. That's why she finds herself now, with a hand on his lower back, helping him to sit on the edge of the tub. His hands go straight to his knees at first, clamping down on the bony prominances, leaving white spots. She swears she sees his left hand tremble as he moves it to the edge of the tub to steady himself.
“You're exhausted.” It's an excuse that she gives him, to fill the air between them and allow him a moment to regain his resolve. She won't look at him just yet, so she turns on the taps, adjusts the temperature.
“Make it hot,” he says, his face still pointed towards his knees and his voice grating over the rush of the water hitting porcelin. It's the first thing he's said to her since they left the hospital. He has a right to silence today. He's not a hero. But then again...
Cuddy turns the hot water up a notch and stands back to look at him for a moment. His breaths are too heavy, his naked chest rising with great gasps that must be a combination of fatigue and pain. She hasn't seen him swallow any pills since she pulled him out of there. He's paid a greater price than they could've anticipated. His inaction now is a tell.
The tub begins to fill and House stands again, not once looking at Cuddy. He turns his back to her, and she can see a purpling bruise in the middle of the left Latissimus Dorsi. He'll need ice for that later, among other things. She'll call something in, have someone deliver it.
“You planning on joining? Or is watching your thing?”
She crosses her arms as his left eye peers at her from over his shoulder. One day, she thinks, when he grows up, if that ever happens. She appreciates that he's done this. But even so, it's not enough to lure her into lust.
“I'll be in the kitchen.”
She busies herself with trying to make Ramen edible in the sparseness of House's kitchen. She settles on defrosting a zip-locked chicken breast that doesn't have too much freezer burn, and throwing in some already wilting spinach that Wilson must have bought. By the time she's throwing in the cheese, House emerges from the bath, smelling like soap, but still pale and moving much slower than when he bounced in through her office doors this morning.
“Where are my pills?”
She pulls the new prescription from her pocket and hands him the bottle. She forces her eyes away as he swallows them dry. He looks at the steam coming from the stovetop and deliberately sniffs the air. He doesn't look pleased, but he sits on the stool next to the table and fingers a thin cut on his right knuckle, apparently waiting for Cuddy to serve him. She spoons the mixture into bowls and puts one in front of him, watching the steam rise, watching House relish the warm scent of comfort food.
“You shouldn't have done it, House.”
He nods once, takes a spoonful of noodles. "I know."