The Last Piece of the Puzzle
A/N: Yes, it's another "Under My Skin" speculation story. I just dashed it off yesterday in a fit of Huddy excitement, so it might be a little rough or out of character in some places. If so, I apologize. I've thrown in a little surprise for you fans with desk fetishes. Please enjoy!
A knock sounded on her front door not five minutes after she had walked through it herself. Slipping out of her too-high heels, she wandered over to see who was calling. A look through her peep-hole revealed a surprising figure, and she opened the door at once. He stood there, looking considerably worse for the wear that he usually did, with a frightening expression on his face. It was not the look of sarcastic disinterest that he usually wore, but rather one of deep pain and wanting.
"House," she said quietly. "Are you okay? Come in." She pulled the door open wider and looked on helplessly as he limped to her sofa, his cane offering little relief. He collapsed there and shut his eyes, breathing heavily, as if the short journey from door to couch had drained all his energy. She hurried to his side and lightly stroked his head for a moment. "I take it the detox isn't going well?"
"It's torture," he groaned. She sighed, desperately searching for a way to ease his suffering. At length he opened his eyes and repositioned himself somewhat. "I need a distraction. Things are slow at work – I haven't had a case in almost a week. There's nothing to focus on but the pain. I need the pain to go away." With his final statement, he turned to her and looked deeply into her eyes. He saw her concern; he saw how his pain was hurting her. Then he said something neither of them could have seen coming. "I need help."
Their gazes remained locked, one pair of bright blue eyes facing another, and they seemed to carry on a silent conversation as they stared. Every subtle expression of one was noted by the other; every slight movement stood for a few of the myriad words they had never spoken. At long last, it was she who broke the golden silence with a question, spoken softly, but laden with feeling.
"You want to kiss me, don't you?"
Although his carefully trained face remained smooth, a storm had blown up inside him. He marveled at her astounding ability to pick out exactly what he wanted most. After a few moments' silent hesitation, he whispered back. "I always want to kiss you." And it was true: every time his blue eyes met hers, he wanted nothing more than to press his lips against those of the woman who now sat beside him. Having finally told her so, he felt the beginnings of an odd, shimmery feeling coming to a boil within him.
She moved closer, so slightly that he barely noticed. But it was all the encouragement he needed. He leaned toward her, and she toward him, both closing their eyes as their other senses spiked. Sooner than she had anticipated, she felt his lips touch hers, and the two folded together as though they were made to fit, like adjacent pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The kiss was soft, but with an underlying intensity that betrayed the years of hidden emotions that had kept them apart for so long.
Finally she pulled back and looked up into his eyes. She could see in them a love deeper than she had ever imagined. Although she was well aware of his gift for reading faces (and she knew that her own face must have mirrored his), Dr. Cuddy felt an overwhelming need to confess.
"I love you." Saying it, finally, felt so exhilarating that she decided to repeat it. "I love you. I love you." His shining eyes, no longer obscured by the fog of his pain, seemed to sparkle under her gaze.
He moved in again, and just before placing another delicate kiss on her honey-sweet lips, his gruff voice answered, "I love you, too." Their secrets at last revealed, the two sat in comfortable silence. She leaned in to rest her head on his broad chest, listening to his heart beat steadily, and he circled her small frame with one arm, using the other to carefully brush a stray curl from her forehead.
As night began to fall, she slowly stood and turned on a dim floor lamp. He followed her when she wandered into the kitchen, his pain somewhat dulled but still very much present. She busied herself at the counter, putting together a simple sandwich for each of them, and he watched her from the table. She still wore her professional (yet very sexy) work clothes: a cropped black jacket with matching pants and a blouse that was the exact same shade of baby blue as the t-shirt he wore under his gray button-up. Of course, to him she had looked just as spectacular on that evening a few months ago, the evening when they had shared a kiss born of her sadness and his desperate need to help her smile again.
They said little as they ate. She had ham and Swiss cheese; he had roast beef and cheddar. After they had rinsed off their plates, as she poured them each a glass of wine, a cry was heard from the nursery.
"That'll be Rachel." Cuddy couldn't help but smile when she spoke of her adopted baby girl. Side-by-side, the two doctors walked down the hallway and into the baby's darkened room. While Cuddy turned on a lamp, House strode to the crib, set aside his cane, and bent to pick up the fussing infant. His boss looked on with amazement as he gently rocked her in his arms, calming her. Cuddy wished she had a camera, because if she ever tried to tell someone about this display, they would never believe her without photographic proof. She stepped closer.
"I never knew you were so good with kids," she said.
"Babies are okay," he replied, never taking his eyes off the one in his arms. "They can't lie if they can't talk, right?"
She chucked. "I suppose not. I need to feed her now." He handed Rachel to her mother, who carried her out to the living room for a bottle. Once she was fed and rocked back to sleep, Cuddy returned to the couch to find House waiting with both glasses of wine. Having seen him interacting with her daughter, she was now surer than ever that she was in love. As she settled in next to him, she felt an odd feeling begin to build inside her, a feeling that grew wilder with each sip of red wine, so that by the time her glass was empty, she felt like a completely new person.
Shrewdly avoiding her detection, he had been watching her, and he saw this change take place. His curiosity, coupled with the effects of the wine, soon brought him to a very similar state. He set his glass by hers on the coffee table and gave her a sideways glance.
"Well," she stated. "I think I'm going to go to bed." She stood. You're welcome to… stay… if you want," she added awkwardly. Receiving no reply, she turned and headed down the hall toward her bedroom door at the end. Before she had made it too far, ad certainly before she expected him to have caught up, a hand gripped her shoulder firmly. Turning, she saw him there, the same look on his face as she could feel on hers. "I think it's about time we put a little truth behind the rumors, Cuddles," he said with just a hint of a sly grin.
With that, he pulled her into a passionate kiss, pinning her to the wall as he did. They each made quick work of the buttons on the other's shirt, and she pulled the t-shirt over his head as he unhooked her white lace bra. In this parade of shed clothing, they slowly made their way down the hall toward her room. He lifted her up, their lips still locked, all pain in his leg forgotten, and carried her over the threshold. Once inside and on the bed, he gave her one last gentle kiss before he rocked her world.
Sighing contentedly, Cuddy rested an arm across his toned body. He ran a hand through her tousled curls as he caught his breath. After a moment, House turned on his side to face her and said, a snarky smile playing at his lips, "That was definitely better in bed than it was on your old desk."
fin. 7:11 PM 5/3/09 [t-minus one day!]
