AN: Written for melissaisdown for the House_Cuddy Community's Secret Santa. Merry Christmas, dear readers, and a Happy New Year! Also, thank you to Akemi1582 for betaing this for me!
Prompt[s]: Cuddy's first impression (meeting House in the UMich bookstore). How she held onto it and why it was love at first insight. [This can be Ann Arbor from her POV or a retrospect, or anything. No real restrictions]
in·sight/ˈinˌsīt/ Noun: The capacity to gain an accurate and deep intuitive understanding of a person or thing.
We met before that... in the bookstore.
It is Wednesday, the third day of Lisa Cuddy's first week at university. As a freshman she has begun to understand the ropes and the expectations of the people around her. She walks through the quad, taking in the glances from admiring males and the tentative looks of passing potential classmates. The people who venture into this part of the campus are the premed students, highly intelligent, but with a range of common sense bordering from one coast to the other. Various new friends have already invited her to no less than four "start of term" parties in her dormitory.
She breathes in the afternoon air. The sun is still high on her face as she finally spies the building she needs to enter. The bookstore stands a hundred feet from her, red bricked and stately. The trees around it have begun to turn purple, red, and gold to announce the coming fall. She smiles to herself at the quaint image and approaches the store. She never realizes that crossing the threshold will forever change her life.
Inside she instantly shivers as a blast of cold air washes over her. A fan is placed high above the door. She scowls at it and looks around. The bookstore is huge and cramped. It is arranged into sections by school and within the schools by major. She glances quickly around the floor to see only a lone figure at the counter. There are two students going through used sociology books to her left and an English major grabbing hold of new notebooks and pens in the far corner.
She sighs, knowing she needs help locating her selection of textbooks. That need grates at her nerves but she swallows her pride and walks toward the lone figure at the counter, digging through her backpack for the elusive syllabus.
He is a tall man; long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He's reading from a book laid flat on the counter in front of him, its title obscured. Immediately, maybe even instinctively, she knows he is different. He doesn't lift his eyes to her right away or even acknowledge her presence. A man has never made her feel so… invisible. She is used to easily capturing the attention of those around herself. There is annoyance brimming up in her features yet she is intrigued. She coughs and waits until he looks up at her.
When he does, it is with a curt "How can I help you?" and a glance into her eyes and the inevitable flicker down to her breasts. He looks away discreetly a moment later and returns his eyes to his book. She hands him her syllabus and he almost snatches it out of her grasp.
Cuddy can finally see his face clearly for the first time. He is definitely older than her and her peers, judging by the impressive five o'clock shadow he is sporting. His hair is messy, but not quite long. Inhaling deeply, unobtrusively, the scent of sandalwood wafts up through her nose. The man is attractive and very fit. Broad shouldered and muscular, but not overly so, she thinks he is handsome. It takes him a whole minute to study the syllabus before it is unceremoniously thrust back into her hand.
"My, my… you are overly ambitious," he says and glances up into her eyes, watching her reactions, she thinks, like a well-trained hound. "You have a chip on your shoulder, too. And you know how to party," he concludes with a smirk as if that is a good note on a dismal report.
"You're making that up." The words slip from her lips without her permission. His assessment of her is fairly accurate, but she forces her expression into one of denial.
He huffs dramatically and leans over the counter, invading her personal space. Her mind races as she tries to think of a time she has glimpsed eyes so blue. No recollection appears. A raised eyebrow shows her willingness to listen and he takes that as a positive sign to continue.
"Your class schedule is overloaded… but you have no classes before eleven. You're also taking Lamb's course. No one does that unless they have something to prove."
Her heart is playing a staccato against her ribs. In three days, she has met hundreds of people, nice ones, gorgeous ones, good ones. But for the first time in seventy-two hours she knows she has met someone incredible. The thought makes her blood race and her face flush. Her reaction to the unnamed man is a bit ridiculous her rational mind supplies. She does not know him, his name, his major, only that he can describe some parts of her life just by looking at a little piece of paper.
"I'll be right back with your books," he says, effectively ending the awkward silence that has descended upon them. Cuddy watches as he retreats to the stockroom and disappears among the stacks. Seeing her chance to gain more knowledge of the clerk, she looks down and moves the open book on the counter toward herself. Words like "pathogens," "pandemic," and "infectious" register first. Then comprehension sets in and she knows she is viewing a medical text on infectious diseases. Definitions of diseases line the margins of the papers. In a neat, tight scrawl, handwritten notes are squeezed onto the top margins and any empty space on the sides. They do not look to be the graffiti of previous owners, but rather the mysterious clerk's own observations and insights. Again she thinks, 'incredible!'
She flinches and looks guilty when the sharp snap of books meeting wood reaches her ears. The clerk has a suspicious but playful look on his face as he eyes her right hand still on his book. All of the books she needs are in a stack off to her left.
"That's two hundred and twenty-seven dollars, twenty-nine cents," he says. His voice holds her spellbound for a minute, her eyes taking all of him in before she remembers that she is in the middle of a bookstore, ogling the clerk who happens to be handsome and intelligent.
The clerk has a grin on his face as he takes her money and deposits it in his register. She knows she is blushing. The heat settles in her cheeks and she smiles back. His fingertips brush her hand as he hands her two dollar bills, two quarters, two dimes and a penny. Callouses kiss smooth skin.
"Thanks," she mutters and starts shoving books into her book bag. When she is done, she gives him a smile that promises she will properly meet him soon. A "goodbye" is softly verbalized and she turns away from the man still staring at her from the counter. On her last glance, an innocently sultry look over her shoulder, his blue eyes hold mischief and promises unknown.
The warm afternoon air washes over her chilled skin as she steps outside, having met the most incredible man she will ever know for the first time.
She doesn't know why that memory has resurfaced. Cuddy is sitting on her couch, House leaning against her, head on her shoulder, and softly snoring into her neck. Hot chocolate is held in her grasp. She stares out the living room window lined in snow and bright from the stark white and blue lights she has hung around the house. House has already sneered at her attempt at Chanukah cheer but she thinks her holiday lights contrast nicely with the array of rainbow ones her neighbors have. Anyway, she wants Rachel to enjoy her childhood and the secular spirit of Christmas.
The man next to her snuffles slightly before turning towards her more, snaking an arm around her waist. She smiles as he unintentionally cuddles her. Leaning her head on his, she accepts his warmth and knows they are always going to have moments like this. She presses a drowsy kiss to his forehead and feels him wake slowly. The sudden absence of snores and the brush of lips make her aware that he has other things on his mind.
"You're reminiscing too loudly," his lips brush against the shell of her ear as he speaks. "I can see the ghost of Christmas past has either finally come to rid me of my evil ways and has accidently lectured you for not believing in Santa Claus or you're being sappy."
"No ghosts," she laughs. "I was thinking of the first time I met you."
"Oh, good. I refuse to keep Christmas in my heart every day of the year. Too damn expensive," he dryly adds.
This time she smacks his left thigh smartly but beams at him when he nudges her to turn her face. His blues are still the same. Cuddy has never met any other person with the same shade blue. His hair is grey now, though, and his beard is streaked with it. The grey in his beard is most heavy on the corners of his chin and upper corners of his mouth. It reminds her of the markings of a tiger. His grin is more devil-may-care and reckless, but his eyes show a different story. His eyes, and especially the deep crow's feet, show that he isn't carelessly reckless; he's calculating every movement he makes, every word he speaks, and weighing the pros and cons of each and every situation.
She leans into him, letting him close the distance between them for a simple kiss, the brushing of lips to lips. His are dry from the cold. The hair of his mustache tickles her and she smiles against his lips. Her left hand runs smoothly along his right cheek and cups his jaw, her thumb the only digit moving.
"Let's go to bed," she whispers to him, sleepily grinning and standing up. She makes her way to the kitchen first to rinse her cup and put it in the dishwasher. After padding down the hallway silently to check on Rachel, she enters her room. House is laying on his back, arms stretched and crossed behind his head. She smiles as he is only in briefs and leering at her suggestively. She starts taking off her pajamas and leaving each piece neatly folded on her dresser. It is when she is sliding off the bottoms that he speaks again.
"You remembered me from the bookstore and stalked me to endocrinology class," he states. His voice is quiet and husky as his eyes roam her figure.
"I did." Nude, she climbs into her side of the bed and pulls the covers up before leaning over him.
"Why?" His right hand brushes back the cascade of raven colored hair above him. His left hand has already snaked around her and pulled her more on top of him. His expression is hungry, but searching. Two of House's most primal instincts war with each other: the need to know versus the want of having sex with Cuddy. Almost every part of her front is pressed against him. She can feel his erection insistent against her belly, his long legs threaded through hers, her breasts pressing against his chest. She leans down to kiss him before answering.
"Because it was the first time I fell in love with you. You saw me through a sheet of paper… And it was incredible. I think I knew then you were going to be someone important to me. Look where that type of insight has gotten you now." Her breath caresses his face and she kisses him again, her tongue teasing his bottom before his meets it. He rolls over, careful with her as he settles into the apex of her thighs.
"You and maybe two patients were the only ones grateful for that then," he says, unusually solemn.
They kiss and move against each other. Each hand moves in the exact manner wanted by the other. Each sigh and whimper is savored. A murmured I love you sounds through the darkness but neither knows who spoke it. It is inconsequential. Cuddy cries out when House finally penetrates her, hot, hard and the perfect fit.
They make love languidly, both knowing they will be able to sleep in on Christmas morning. They cling to each other, lips tasting the other's passion, fingernails gently running over flexing back muscles. Both think only of the moment. The urgency to come falls on them steadily and they speed their movements up.
Cuddy feels the tightening in her lower belly, the explosive tingle of what will be release with the man she loves. House pants against her neck and shoulder, his teeth scraping her flesh with each thrust. This excites her more. House moves his arms underneath her to grip her shoulders. The extra leverage is just what he needs to snap his hips forcefully to hers. Cuddy's eyes snap shut and she cries out as she comes, muscles stiffening and her body flushing and hot to the touch. Her thighs grip his hips and hold onto him. Every spasm of her vaginal muscles lets her feel the whole of him.
He orgasms moments after he feels her come, the hot flow of her washing over him and making him groan in pleasure. They shudder with each other and blissfully relax again. They separate for a moment reluctantly before being reunited in each other's arms. Cuddy's leg is thrown over his left and the upper half of her body is half on House.
Goodnights are hazily exchanged as sleep takes them captive.