Comfort Zone
As always was the case on Valentine's Day, the PPTH front desk was lined with flowers, heart-shaped balloons, teddy bears, and boxes of candy.
Cuddy paused, smelled one of the bouquets, and smiled as she surveyed the offerings.
"Is that a wistful smile I see playing at your lips?"
She looked up.
Of course, House.
"I'm not allowed to smile at all of these gestures of love?"
"First of all, that wasn't merely a smile. It was a definite look of 'If only. . . '" House said. "And secondly, these aren't gestures of love, they're gestures of—"
"Let me guess, crass commercialism."
"No, I was going to say one upsmanship."
She raised an eyebrow.
"This oughta be good."
"Valentine's Day isn't about one man expressing his love for one woman. It's about several women showing off for each other. The woman with the most expensive gift wins."
Cuddy frowned.
"Okay, so maybe it is about 'my boyfriend's better than yours.' But at least the guys in your cynical scenario bothered to buy the gift."
"Who says I didn't buy you a gift?" House teased.
She looked at him.
"You bought me a gift?" she said, not able to keep herself from smiling.
"Of course. What do you think I am, a moron? But it's not about what everyone else thinks of our relationship. It's about what we think."
She squinted a bit.
"And you're not going to run out to the store right now, just to prove a point?"
"The receipt is in my wallet," he said. "You wanna see it?"
"So it's something you bought. . ."
"I didn't write you a sonnet," he said. "Although I could: Roses are red, violets are blue, your ass is so big, it belongs in a . . ."
"House!"
"Museum," he said, grinning. "Still working on the rhyme scheme."
"Ha ha."
"Your bedroom. Tonight. 9 pm?" he said, with a dirty grin.
"It's a date," she said. And turned and marched happily back to her office.
#####
After she put Rachel to bed, Cuddy made her way into the bedroom.
House was lying on the bed, reading a medical journal.
When he saw her, he smiled, put the magazine down, and reached under the bed. He handed her a box.
"Happy Valentine's Day," he said.
She opened the gift, unfolded the tissue paper: A lace-trimmed dark red slip.
She frowned, just the tiniest bit.
"Thanks," she said.
House had been grinning expectantly, but when he saw her reaction, his face fell.
"Oh shit," he said. "You don't like it."
"No," she said, stiffly. "It's very nice."
"I know it's not your regular color. But I figured it's Valentine's Day. And who am I to avoid the cliché?"
"It's very pretty, House," she said, running her hand over the silk.
"So what's the problem?" he said, inspecting her face.
"Nothing."
He kept staring at her.
"It's just that. . .I was hoping for something a little more. . .romantic," she admitted.
"Romantic? What could be more romantic than me spending the entire day fantasizing about you in this slip?"
"Frankly, almost anything," she said.
"What? You wanted what?. . .a teddy bear, not a teddy? Flowers? Jewelry?"
She looked at him stubbornly.
"What's so horrible about that?"
"It's not us," House said.
"Right. Because we're all about sex," Cuddy said.
"I never said that," House said, getting frustrated. "I don't know what you want from me, Cuddy."
She looked at him.
"I certainly wouldn't want you to pretend to be something you're not," she said.
House snorted.
"What was that for?" Cuddy accused.
"All I do is pretend to be something I'm not with you," he said.
"Screw you, House," Cuddy said.
"Great. Just great," House said, getting up from the bed. "Happy fucking Valentine's Day."
And he stormed out of the bedroom.
#####
She found him, an hour later, sulking in her home office in the dark.
"I come in peace," she said, smiling slightly.
He looked up, turned on the desk lamp.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"No, I'm sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Yes, I did. I'm a jerk. I should've bought you flowers. And candy. And a teddy bear. And jewelry. And I should've given it to you over the intercom in front of your entire staff."
She walked up to him, positioned herself between his legs.
"I wouldn't change a thing," she said quietly.
"Yeah?" he said.
He tentatively put his hands around her waist.
"You want your present now?" she said softly.
"Ugh. You got me something?" he said—more nervous than excited.
"I did." She reached into the pocket of the robe she was wearing and pulled out a tiny laminated card. She handed it to him.
His mouth dropped open.
"You got your motorcycle license?" he said. He was so overcome with emotion, his face began to turn red.
"Yup," she said, smiling a bit.
"But. . . you need to take classes to get one of these! When?"
"All those yoga classes I've been going to for the past three months? Not really yoga," Cuddy said.
"Fuck me," House said, with a groan.
"Not quite the reaction I was hoping for."
"I mean, this is the greatest gift anyone's ever given to me. And I gave you a fucking slip."
She smiled.
"But why is this the greatest gift you've ever gotten?" she said leadingly.
"Why? Because you hate motorcycles. You're deathly afraid of them. It's completely out of your comfort zone. Which means, you did this all for me."
"Just returning the favor," she said, leaning down, kissing him on the mouth.
He looked at her, not quite understanding.
"Once I got over my slight overreaction to the lingerie, I realized that what I did for three months, you do every day. You're totally out of your comfort zone—here, with me and with Rachel, buying me Valentine's Day gifts, being a good boyfriend. And that is the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me."
She placed his hands on the tie to her robe. He unknotted it.
The robe slipped to the floor. She was wearing the red slip underneath.
He took her in lustily.
"God damn it, woman," he said.
"Maybe I can model it for you on the back of your bike," she whispered in her ear.
"Oh. My. God."
THE END