A/N: I got it into my head last night that I had to finish this thing, so I did, because writing is much more fun than studying for exams. I may edit this if I get more inspiration, but since vartanluvva seemed to think it was pretty good, I decided to post it for now. ;-P
Feedback: Wins. Please review!
James Wilson had been married four times in his life, and the first three had been for love.
He'd known Andrea Smith all his life—they'd been the stereotypical high school sweethearts, cute and cuddly and having eyes for no one but each other. There had been no question that she would follow him to college and wait for him during medical school, and then they'd get married once things had settled down a little bit. It was what everyone was expecting—even them.
College was where he met Lisa Cuddy, a brazen young woman with dark curls and a biting wit. Top of her class, head of her sorority, dating the quarterback—it was as if she was trying to compensate for centuries of misogynism by being the best in everything she did, triumphing in a man's world. He didn't mind, though. Lisa would cram for exams with him, the two quizzing each other on exotic procedures and diseases over thick mugs of sludge masquerading as coffee, only consumed for the caffeine they provided.
College was also where he met Maggie Kelly, a brilliant redhead with striking emerald eyes and an Irish accent that fascinated him. When he was around her he got that tingling, heart-in-your-throat sensation that had been missing from his relationship with Andrea for so long. They spent more and more time together as medical school gave way to internships, keeping him away from his new wife, and it wasn't long before Lisa found them making out in the hospital locker room. She gave him a scornful glare, but didn't mention the dalliance to anyone—or tell him "I told you so" when Andrea found out and divorced him two months later.
A year passed and Maggie became his second wife. He had such high hopes this time around. Andrea hadn't been able to understand the pressure of being a doctor, the strains and demands the job put on a person. Maggie did, and wouldn't judge. Any other concerns he might have had got washed away on the high of being a newlywed again.
He lost track of Lisa Cuddy when their internships ended, although it didn't bother him much. People changed, moved away, lost track of each other as they lived their lives. But it was still a pleasant surprise when he ran into her on his first day at PPTH. He invited her out for drinks to catch up, and at the bar explained that Maggie had to work late that night and wouldn't be able to join them. One of Lisa's sculpted eyebrows had risen skeptically at his words. "Yeah, right, James. I'm not planning on becoming one of your conquests, so you can just drop that idea right now."
He had assured her that that wasn't the case, although he wasn't sure if she believed him. It was the truth, though. He loved his wife, however distant they were at the moment. During their internships he and Maggie had spent all of their time at the hospital and had rarely been separated. Now, in two different specialties, on two different schedules, they were like ships passing in the night.
And it wasn't long before Julie Adams caught his eye. An accountant he ran into at a coffee shop near the hospital, she had no ties to medicine at all. It was refreshing, talking to someone who didn't deal with the sick and dying every day. The addictive feeling of new love was starting to take hold again, warmth spreading through his body every time he saw her. Once the affair started, it didn't take long for Maggie to find out, and soon his second marriage was over. But it wasn't too painful, because Julie was there, waiting for him. And when he gazed into her eyes as he said "I do," he made a promise to himself that this time, it was going to last.
Time moved on, as it was apt to do. House and the disaster that was his leg came to the hospital and became his friend, although Wilson still wasn't sure how it had happened, and whether it was a good or bad thing. He became head of Oncology, and Cuddy—it was Cuddy now, not Lisa—achieved her goal of becoming Dean of Medicine. They saw each other every day, but it seemed like they didn't just talk much any more, instead spending their time either discussing or complaining about House.
And then his third marriage had failed.
He'd done so well, restraining himself, doing nothing more than talking to the nurses at work, no matter what House said. But it had all been for naught, and he'd gotten a taste of being on the other side of a failed relationship. It had been a shock, being the one cheated on instead of the one doing the cheating, but he figured he was getting what he deserved, after all this time.
In the past, whenever one relationship ended he'd been on the cusp of a new one, the pain of the former being dulled by the latter. But this time there was no new love to turn to and he was a little lost, sitting on House's couch with no idea where to go. He even started a relationship with a patient, as idiotic as that was, because he needed that feeling so badly, but he quickly came to his senses with a push from House.
If anything good came out of his latest divorce it was that he and Cuddy started talking again—mostly because now there was something to discuss other than House. Queries as to how he was doing segued into discussions that friends had, about anything from the new restaurant in town to what they were doing on the weekends. Cuddy had even invited him out to dinner once, although it had been thoroughly awkward.
But all that was forgotten when House was shot two weeks later.
The nurses at PPTH were some of the best, but that didn't matter when the patient was your friend. He wanted a doctor with House at all times, and it turned out that Cuddy and Cameron did too. They took shifts—Cameron in the morning, Wilson in the afternoon, and Cuddy at night. Cuddy would always bring in some kind of takeout with her, and they would eat dinner together before she took over. Time passed by in a haze until one day there was a knock on his hotel room door and he opened it to Cuddy, eyes bright and relief evident on her face. "He's okay, James."
The tension he'd been carrying around melted away, and then Cuddy's arms were around him, sharing with him her joy at the good news. He hugged her back, and they stayed like that for a long time. It was only later, after Cuddy had left, that he realized that it had been the first time in a long time that he'd held a woman with no ulterior motives.
Eating dinner with Cuddy, it seemed, was a hard habit to break, which explained why he was at her door two nights after House woke up from his ketamine coma, Chinese takeout in hand. She looked at him in confusion until he waved the bag at her, and then she laughed and invited him in. They ate their lo mein straight out of the cartons, sitting on the sofa, watching some mindless reality show. Cuddy was in pajama pants and a t-shirt, not a speck of makeup on her face, and Wilson marveled at how relaxed and comfortable she looked. He couldn't stop looking at her, actually, and it wasn't long until Cuddy noticed, setting down her carton and turning to face him. "What is it, James?"
He just sat there, watching a range of emotions play out across her face. "I'm not sure."
And then he moved forward—or maybe she did. He'd never know. All he knew was that an instant later his lips were on hers and suddenly he was kissing Lisa Cuddy, long and slow and deep.
Finally Wilson pulled away and stared at Cuddy in silent awe. All the other times he'd been in love—thought he'd been in love—his blood had rushed through his veins, roaring behind his ears, making him feel giddy and tipsy and invincible. He was in love with being in love—the biggest natural high there was. But this…this wasn't like that, not at all. He was perfectly sober; no magical hormones tingling just beneath the skin. Only a deep warmth, spreading throughout his body. He felt steady and grounded, and utterly content. He felt…like he was home.
"Oh," he breathed, voice slightly husky, stirring the curls around her face.
"'Oh' what?" Cuddy asked, wide eyes never leaving his own.
"This is what it's supposed to feel like," he whispered, and kissed her again.
James Wilson had been married four times in his life, and the first three had been for love.
But when he married Lisa Cuddy, it was for life.