Title: What About Me?
Author: Skylarcat
Classification: Huddy, One-Shot
Rating: PG 13
Feedback: Yes, please.
Summary: Cuddy is dating someone, and House wants a second chance. Song fic…the lyrics that are throughout this fic are from 'Accidental Babies" by Damien Rice.
Note: House and Cuddy are characters that belong to David Shore, Fox Broadcasting, and Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions. Yes, I have used them without permission. However, no copyright infringement is intended. And I will return them intact and a lot more satisfied.
Well I held you like a lover
Happy hands and your elbow in the appropriate place
"She's dating him," Wilson stated; a simple observation, but to him, his words were a bullet rippling through the air and hitting him straight in the heart.
He turned his chair to stare out the window. His mind carefully probing the revelation; he gnawed at his lip, he shouldn't care, but he did. "Why?" He asked, still not facing his friend. "He's an ass."
Wilson snorted. "Said one ass about another."
He ignored the last comment; his thoughts solely resting on her.
And we ignored our others, happy plans
For that delicate look upon your face
"It's bothering you." Wilson said, sitting in the same spot.
He didn't answer; placing his chin firmly on the hand that rested on his cane, and closed his eyes.
She was leaving him behind; swiftly, like a tide retreating from the shore. He had accomplished his goal; finally managed to push her away. She had finally realized what he knew all along; that he was simply not good enough for her.
He stood, leaned against his cane, and headed towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Wilson asked.
House didn't answer; instead he headed towards her office.
Our bodies moved and hardened
Hurting parts of your garden
With no room for a pardon
In a place where no one knows what we have done
He didn't bother to knock. He never did. And she glanced up as he entered.
"What do you want?" She asked, staring up at him with her piercing blue eyes; always questioning him.
He sighed; took a seat opposite of her, and glanced up. "You." There; he said it, a simple truth, but she wouldn't believe him.
She frowned. "And what is it that you want me to do?"
He hadn't expected anything less from Cuddy. Always regarding him with a secret agenda; she knew him too well.
He didn't speak for a moment; his lips drawing downward, brows narrowing. He had stated the truth. He wanted her. But instead of repeating this, he simply said, "Leave him."
She seemed surprised; her small mouth dropping open, her eyes becoming two slits, cutting through his soul; attempting to read his intentions. "Excuse me?"
When he didn't answer, she dropped a file on her desk with more force then he anticipated; and stood, leaning slightly turns him; her finger pointing at him accusingly. "I get it," she began. "You saw someone else pick up a toy in the sandbox and suddenly you want it."
Her words spit out like tiny daggers ripping at him, wounding him where it counted. She was wrong. It wasn't as simple as a toy in a sandbox and a kid not wanting to share.
Do you come
Together ever with him?
And is he dark enough?
Enough to see your light?
"He doesn't challenge you." He stated; his words like venom, pleading his case.
He watched her features soften, and she lowered back down in her chair; glancing at him suspiciously. "How do you know?"
"Because," he answered. "He's not me."
And do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
Do you miss my smell?
And is he bold enough to take you on?
Do you feel like you belong?
And does he drive you wild?
Or just mildly free?
What about me?
"You don't want me. You made that clear." She leaned forward, placing her chin in the palm of her hand.
He stared at her. "I changed my mind."
She gnawed on her bottom lip; eyes liquid fire, burning right through him. "But you said…"
He cut her off. "I lied."
Well you held me like a lover
Sweaty hands
And my foot in the appropriate place
It's too late," she shot back; the three words he had feared. "That ship has sailed."
He flinched. "He bores you." He stated, his voice rising through the air like flames. "He doesn't know how to take you on. He doesn't piss you off. He doesn't drive you insane." He was shouting now, his words exploding like a broken damn. He sighed; pointing at his chest, his voice lowering, "I do."
"I don't want to play games, House." She spoke softly. And he realized then, that neither did he.
And we use cushions to cover
Happy glands
In the mild issue of our disgrace
"It scares me." He spoke, watching as her eyes widened, wondering where his confession was leading. "So I pushed you away." He lowered his eyes and stared at the carpet, his words falling like stars; a gentle echo of which was never spoken of before.
"You said you never needed me." She stated, recalling that night not too long ago.
"I said a lot of things that night I didn't mean." He tapped his cane on the floor; its sound drumming, like the beat of his heart.
He heard her sigh, and glanced up, watching as she leaned back against her chair.
"What do you want, House?" She repeated her earlier question.
"Only a chance," he answered.
Our minds pressed and guarded
While our flesh disregarded
The lack of space for the light-hearted
In the boom that beats our drum
The room filled with silence, like the silence of her eyes; radiate and profound. And he swallowed, waiting for her reply.
"I can't do this again." She informed him; her eyes becoming misty under dark thick lashes.
"Do you ever think of me?" He suddenly asked; not sure where he was going, but longing for the answer.
"What?" She asked, obviously confused.
"When you're with him, do you ever think of me?" He gripped his cane, and counted the seconds. "Does he make you feel alive?"
Well I know I make you cry
And I know sometimes you wanna die
But do you really feel alive without me?
If so, be free
If not, leave him for me
Before one of us has accidental babies
For we are in love
"I'm happy, House." That was all she said.
And he felt his heart sink, as though weighed down with a million weights. Her words were heavy; a burden he had asked for, inflicted upon himself as an act of justice. He was undeserving of her.
Do you come
Together ever with him?
Is he dark enough?
Enough to see your light?
He would never again see her light shine solely for him. Her eyes lightening up like tiny Christmas lights every time he walked into a room. Never again would her voice sing out his name as her body crashed against his, sweaty and shaking from the strain of lovemaking.
She was fading away, like dreams in the early morning; dawn erasing any trace of memory.
But she was happy, and that was all he could ask for.
Do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
Do you miss my smell?
And is he bold enough to take you on?
Do you feel like you belong?
And does he drive you wild?
Or just mildly free?
"Okay," He answered, already standing and limping towards her door. The last words of a Damien Rice song playing inside his head: What about me? What about me?