Till the Next Time We Say Goodbye
Title: Till the Next Time We Say Goodbye
Pairing: House/Cuddy
Rating: M
Part 1/3
Summary: They met in a crowed hotel bar.
Two strangers, one night. AU.
Notes: Title from a Rolling Stones song again. Think I could be making a theme of it. This is AU but alludes to many canonical events and gradually becomes a what if --- fic.
Also an attempt at smut turned sentimental.
Thanks for reading. Comments rock.
Till the Next Time We Say Goodbye
The hotel lobby was too quiet, her blood too still.
Every conference Cuddy attended acted only as a reminder of how far she’d come professionally at the expense of so much personally. Other women brought their husbands, displayed wallets full of family portraits, bragged about the cures their kindergartener would discover by sixth grade.
She had none of that, only a title and a burden and another night alone to face. Unwilling to admit such hollow defeat, she inched her skirt up, shed her suit jacket and strode into the hotel bar.
The instant she walked in he wanted her. Searching for a seat amid the din of meaningless conversation, she saw him, staring at her penetrative and predatory in the semi darkness. The shadows were cast sharp across his face, turning his features to monochromatic stone, but the erosion was there, at the corner of his eye, where a highlight shone like a brand over his left cheek.
An empty seat beside him and she knew the perils of sitting. The danger she needed though, to sever all the strings and forget who she was. Fearing his infatuation would dissolve if she opened her mouth, Cuddy omitted an introduction. She tapped her nails against the polished mahogany counter and considered getting what she always gets, a cabernet. This time she let his brooding presence change her mind.
“Gin and tonic,” she ordered, like a dare. Then the drink was mixed and in front of her, and the specter at her side swayed close, covering her hand with his before she could pay and handing the bartender cash.
His palm pinned hers long enough to make her sweat, too long to bear looking him in the eyes. It was summer and he was sweating too. The focal point lower, she saw a dark sheen along his unshaved upper lip. It was a tell. Maybe he wanted this as much as her. Maybe he wanted it more.
Since she refused to look at him, the stranger’s eyes darted lower, examining her necklace. A silver chain was dangling just above cleavage deep enough to bury himself alive in.
She caught him ogling and her eyes tried to meet his, mock confrontational. But he kept gazing at the jewelry caught and distracting on her damp chest, a scarlet flush spreading. The low cut blouse was invitation and he saw she needed the contact and he couldn’t resist. He reached for the necklace, peeling it away from her skin. His knuckles brushed low enough to raise goosebumps and his face bowed forward to savor the reaction. Then he crooked a finger, letting the necklace drop, and grazed the illuminated line along her jaw, sweeping a strand of hair away from her face. She was beaming.
When his touch retreated every intention she had of eloquently sipping her drink was abandoned. Cuddy downed all but the ice of the gin and tonic, determined to blur the edges of reality, and make tonight different.
She was grappling for a way to extract starcrossed ardor from this
scenario--picking up a stranger in a bar--a tall, jetlagged, attractive stranger. She wanted to start this. If the initiative was hers, she had control.
A couple cramped themselves into the space on the other side of her looming possibility. He inched closer to her, nonchalantly resting his right hand high on her bare thigh. His thumb stroked under her skirt and both felt all the moisture and humidity concentrate to the gap above his curved fingers.
Cuddy clutched to the chair, the tension tightening every muscle in her body. She raised her glass to her lips, trying to sustain the tease, letting what there was of melting ice slow the simmer. Her extemporized escort raised his left hand and jerked his neck, ordering her another. Music blared. A band had begun. The place was getting crowded. It’s only rock and roll he wanted to say, begging that the noise and people wouldn’t drive her away. Before he could complete the thought, someone squeezed in, waving for a beer and forcing him to stand and hover above her. She could smell him: sweat and scotch and aftershave.
She sensed he wanted to say something but he just turned and reticently finished his drink. It was then she thought she saw an anomaly, a glint in his eye more recognizable than lust.
Wet lips leaned in and he breathed by her ear, his beard brushing along her cheek. He ended the overture with the faintest vestige of a kiss at he corner of her mouth. His hand ran down her arm and a piano played.
With his palm pressed to hers again, Cuddy’s heart screamed to run away, run away with him and never look back.
She let him let go and walk away an undecipherable unknown.
But in her hand he left something behind.
----
Pairing: House/Cuddy
Rating: M
Part 1/3
Summary: They met in a crowed hotel bar.
Two strangers, one night. AU.
Notes: Title from a Rolling Stones song again. Think I could be making a theme of it. This is AU but alludes to many canonical events and gradually becomes a what if --- fic.
Also an attempt at smut turned sentimental.
Thanks for reading. Comments rock.
Till the Next Time We Say Goodbye
The hotel lobby was too quiet, her blood too still.
Every conference Cuddy attended acted only as a reminder of how far she’d come professionally at the expense of so much personally. Other women brought their husbands, displayed wallets full of family portraits, bragged about the cures their kindergartener would discover by sixth grade.
She had none of that, only a title and a burden and another night alone to face. Unwilling to admit such hollow defeat, she inched her skirt up, shed her suit jacket and strode into the hotel bar.
The instant she walked in he wanted her. Searching for a seat amid the din of meaningless conversation, she saw him, staring at her penetrative and predatory in the semi darkness. The shadows were cast sharp across his face, turning his features to monochromatic stone, but the erosion was there, at the corner of his eye, where a highlight shone like a brand over his left cheek.
An empty seat beside him and she knew the perils of sitting. The danger she needed though, to sever all the strings and forget who she was. Fearing his infatuation would dissolve if she opened her mouth, Cuddy omitted an introduction. She tapped her nails against the polished mahogany counter and considered getting what she always gets, a cabernet. This time she let his brooding presence change her mind.
“Gin and tonic,” she ordered, like a dare. Then the drink was mixed and in front of her, and the specter at her side swayed close, covering her hand with his before she could pay and handing the bartender cash.
His palm pinned hers long enough to make her sweat, too long to bear looking him in the eyes. It was summer and he was sweating too. The focal point lower, she saw a dark sheen along his unshaved upper lip. It was a tell. Maybe he wanted this as much as her. Maybe he wanted it more.
Since she refused to look at him, the stranger’s eyes darted lower, examining her necklace. A silver chain was dangling just above cleavage deep enough to bury himself alive in.
She caught him ogling and her eyes tried to meet his, mock confrontational. But he kept gazing at the jewelry caught and distracting on her damp chest, a scarlet flush spreading. The low cut blouse was invitation and he saw she needed the contact and he couldn’t resist. He reached for the necklace, peeling it away from her skin. His knuckles brushed low enough to raise goosebumps and his face bowed forward to savor the reaction. Then he crooked a finger, letting the necklace drop, and grazed the illuminated line along her jaw, sweeping a strand of hair away from her face. She was beaming.
When his touch retreated every intention she had of eloquently sipping her drink was abandoned. Cuddy downed all but the ice of the gin and tonic, determined to blur the edges of reality, and make tonight different.
She was grappling for a way to extract starcrossed ardor from this
scenario--picking up a stranger in a bar--a tall, jetlagged, attractive stranger. She wanted to start this. If the initiative was hers, she had control.
A couple cramped themselves into the space on the other side of her looming possibility. He inched closer to her, nonchalantly resting his right hand high on her bare thigh. His thumb stroked under her skirt and both felt all the moisture and humidity concentrate to the gap above his curved fingers.
Cuddy clutched to the chair, the tension tightening every muscle in her body. She raised her glass to her lips, trying to sustain the tease, letting what there was of melting ice slow the simmer. Her extemporized escort raised his left hand and jerked his neck, ordering her another. Music blared. A band had begun. The place was getting crowded. It’s only rock and roll he wanted to say, begging that the noise and people wouldn’t drive her away. Before he could complete the thought, someone squeezed in, waving for a beer and forcing him to stand and hover above her. She could smell him: sweat and scotch and aftershave.
She sensed he wanted to say something but he just turned and reticently finished his drink. It was then she thought she saw an anomaly, a glint in his eye more recognizable than lust.
Wet lips leaned in and he breathed by her ear, his beard brushing along her cheek. He ended the overture with the faintest vestige of a kiss at he corner of her mouth. His hand ran down her arm and a piano played.
With his palm pressed to hers again, Cuddy’s heart screamed to run away, run away with him and never look back.
She let him let go and walk away an undecipherable unknown.
But in her hand he left something behind.
----