One-Shot: Tender
Title: Tender
Characters: House/Cuddy
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~930
Summary: He knows exactly what she needs. *SPOILERS FOR 7x11* Set right after the ep.
Author's Note: This is my attempt to deal with the end of 7x11, because I don't know about you but I was dying for a scene with Cuddy and House as the end of this whole ordeal, and for a little intimacy. That said this is a but fluffy. Or a lot fluffy. Oopsies. Sorry though, no sex.
Cuddy is tired. She is tired beyond all her normal means, and it's an effort to even shoulder the front door closed and lock it behind her. She'd stayed at the hospital later than probably necessary, later than House was willing to stay, until her mom's heart monitor had remained at the same steady thump thump thump for over an hour and her own head was beginning to feel like lead.
Only then did she force herself up and to her car. Her clock read half past three, and she knew her night's sleep was shot. She'd been half-tempted to conk out on her office couch instead of drive home and back, but the thought of yoga pants and real food propelled her the rest of the way.
The lock clicks shut in the deserted hall and she toes her heels off by the door. She has already decided she's going to wolf down whatever piece of tupperware she can find first in the fridge and then fall swiftly into bed. She just wants a few hours in which she doesn't have to think. She's done too much thinking in the last few days and has much more ahead of her. What she and House did... there are repercussions there, and she knows it, oh does she know it. Trying to keep her love life from affecting her work life is hard enough on a daily basis, but will be even more so now. Dr. Kaufman is bound to talk; he is almost as hung up on ethics as Masters is. Today was not ethically one of Cuddy's best, to say the least. And aside from Kaufman there's her mother to continue worrying about, and her sister, and-
"Cuddy?" a gruff voice rasps from the end of the hall.
Cuddy starts, her eyes still adjusting to the dark. She can see House looming up ahead, leaning against the corner to the living room. "Jesus," she mutters.
She watches him cross his arms over his chest. He's still wearing his clothes from earlier in the day. "How long have you been here?"
He shrugs. "Since I left work."
"You didn't have to wait up." Cuddy tugs her coat off and untucks her blouse. House just watches her, unspeaking, because even if he didn't have to wait up, he did, and that's the end of that.
"You're ok." He says it like he's not sure if it should be a question or a statement, but he also says it like a man who's just as worn out as she is.
"I will be," she replies. "Mom will be fine now," she casts him a weary smile as thanks, "Julie got home safely, and the hospital-well-the hospital will get over what happened. I'm the dean. I'm the dean, and we didn't kill anyone, so-"
House shushes her and limps forward until they’re standing toe-to-toe. And just as silently he wraps a big arm around her and she feels her entire body unknot and melt. It's a good thing he's got both feet planted on the ground because if he hadn't she would have gone careening onto the hard wood. Instead her arms are squished against his chest and her face nestles into his collar. His other arm encircles her shoulders and he rests his chin on top of her head.
"Rachel-" she begins.
"Is asleep," he finishes.
"Marina-?"
"Sent her home. Shut up."
"What about-"
"Shut up," he repeats, "for the love of god."
Cuddy is tempted to argue, because her mind won't stop spinning in circles, but she forces herself to shut her eyes. She breathes into his stale shirt for she doesn't know how long, her fingers winding into the fabric as she tries to tug herself further into him. Because even if she hadn't known it until now this is exactly what she'd needed. And despite his usual aversion to affection, here in her cold, dark entryway in the middle of the very early morning with nobody around to judge them, he knows exactly what she needs. After a day spent fighting him, yelling at him, and trying to hold both a hospital and her own family together, this is sublime.
Eventually he pulls away a little and she instinctively tightens her grip on him with a jolt. "You're falling asleep," he mutters. Normally she would be a little embarrassed; tonight she doesn't care. Instead of disappearing into the kitchen like she half-expects, he leans down and hoists her into his arms like he did once before, on a night that seems so very far removed from this one. It's as big of a surprise now as it was then. "House, you don't-"
"Shut up. I do." He's already halfway down the hall and there's no stopping him so she puts her head into the crook of his neck. She’s practically out cold by the time he lowers her into bed, all intents of eating, changing and washing-up completely forgotten. Instead she noses into the pillow as he shuffles around the room disposing of his crumpled blazer and jeans.
“Thank you,” she manages to say when he finally curls up behind her. She nudges her chilly toes in between his ankles while his arms find their way back around her.
He doesn’t say anything-he doesn’t have to-he just rubs his rough cheek against the side of her face in a quiet, silly kind of nuzzle that would normally make her laugh. “Sleep,” he orders quietly. “Think about tomorrow, tomorrow.”
“When did you get so wise,” she murmurs.
“I didn’t. You’re dreaming,” he deadpans.
Cuddy falls asleep with a soft smile on her face. Tomorrow might not be so bad.
Characters: House/Cuddy
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~930
Summary: He knows exactly what she needs. *SPOILERS FOR 7x11* Set right after the ep.
Author's Note: This is my attempt to deal with the end of 7x11, because I don't know about you but I was dying for a scene with Cuddy and House as the end of this whole ordeal, and for a little intimacy. That said this is a but fluffy. Or a lot fluffy. Oopsies. Sorry though, no sex.
Cuddy is tired. She is tired beyond all her normal means, and it's an effort to even shoulder the front door closed and lock it behind her. She'd stayed at the hospital later than probably necessary, later than House was willing to stay, until her mom's heart monitor had remained at the same steady thump thump thump for over an hour and her own head was beginning to feel like lead.
Only then did she force herself up and to her car. Her clock read half past three, and she knew her night's sleep was shot. She'd been half-tempted to conk out on her office couch instead of drive home and back, but the thought of yoga pants and real food propelled her the rest of the way.
The lock clicks shut in the deserted hall and she toes her heels off by the door. She has already decided she's going to wolf down whatever piece of tupperware she can find first in the fridge and then fall swiftly into bed. She just wants a few hours in which she doesn't have to think. She's done too much thinking in the last few days and has much more ahead of her. What she and House did... there are repercussions there, and she knows it, oh does she know it. Trying to keep her love life from affecting her work life is hard enough on a daily basis, but will be even more so now. Dr. Kaufman is bound to talk; he is almost as hung up on ethics as Masters is. Today was not ethically one of Cuddy's best, to say the least. And aside from Kaufman there's her mother to continue worrying about, and her sister, and-
"Cuddy?" a gruff voice rasps from the end of the hall.
Cuddy starts, her eyes still adjusting to the dark. She can see House looming up ahead, leaning against the corner to the living room. "Jesus," she mutters.
She watches him cross his arms over his chest. He's still wearing his clothes from earlier in the day. "How long have you been here?"
He shrugs. "Since I left work."
"You didn't have to wait up." Cuddy tugs her coat off and untucks her blouse. House just watches her, unspeaking, because even if he didn't have to wait up, he did, and that's the end of that.
"You're ok." He says it like he's not sure if it should be a question or a statement, but he also says it like a man who's just as worn out as she is.
"I will be," she replies. "Mom will be fine now," she casts him a weary smile as thanks, "Julie got home safely, and the hospital-well-the hospital will get over what happened. I'm the dean. I'm the dean, and we didn't kill anyone, so-"
House shushes her and limps forward until they’re standing toe-to-toe. And just as silently he wraps a big arm around her and she feels her entire body unknot and melt. It's a good thing he's got both feet planted on the ground because if he hadn't she would have gone careening onto the hard wood. Instead her arms are squished against his chest and her face nestles into his collar. His other arm encircles her shoulders and he rests his chin on top of her head.
"Rachel-" she begins.
"Is asleep," he finishes.
"Marina-?"
"Sent her home. Shut up."
"What about-"
"Shut up," he repeats, "for the love of god."
Cuddy is tempted to argue, because her mind won't stop spinning in circles, but she forces herself to shut her eyes. She breathes into his stale shirt for she doesn't know how long, her fingers winding into the fabric as she tries to tug herself further into him. Because even if she hadn't known it until now this is exactly what she'd needed. And despite his usual aversion to affection, here in her cold, dark entryway in the middle of the very early morning with nobody around to judge them, he knows exactly what she needs. After a day spent fighting him, yelling at him, and trying to hold both a hospital and her own family together, this is sublime.
Eventually he pulls away a little and she instinctively tightens her grip on him with a jolt. "You're falling asleep," he mutters. Normally she would be a little embarrassed; tonight she doesn't care. Instead of disappearing into the kitchen like she half-expects, he leans down and hoists her into his arms like he did once before, on a night that seems so very far removed from this one. It's as big of a surprise now as it was then. "House, you don't-"
"Shut up. I do." He's already halfway down the hall and there's no stopping him so she puts her head into the crook of his neck. She’s practically out cold by the time he lowers her into bed, all intents of eating, changing and washing-up completely forgotten. Instead she noses into the pillow as he shuffles around the room disposing of his crumpled blazer and jeans.
“Thank you,” she manages to say when he finally curls up behind her. She nudges her chilly toes in between his ankles while his arms find their way back around her.
He doesn’t say anything-he doesn’t have to-he just rubs his rough cheek against the side of her face in a quiet, silly kind of nuzzle that would normally make her laugh. “Sleep,” he orders quietly. “Think about tomorrow, tomorrow.”
“When did you get so wise,” she murmurs.
“I didn’t. You’re dreaming,” he deadpans.
Cuddy falls asleep with a soft smile on her face. Tomorrow might not be so bad.