Twelfth Night

If music be the food of love, play on

House, restless and arresting, did not sleep soundly.

It was a fact Cuddy had anticipated, yet she still marveled at his ability to function on a mere three or four hours of sleep. Not just to function, but to function well. True that he spend at least fifty percent of his day in front of one TV or another or sprawled on the couch in her office looking petulant. Still, she wasn't sure what to do with him when she found him channel surfing a muted TV at 3am.

Most times, she ran her nails through his hair before returning to bed, a surrender to his eccentricities. When she felt particularly frisky, she seduced him on the couch, knowing she would buy him a few more hours of rest when it was over. But this night she sat beside him, curled her fingers into his loose hand, dropped her head to his shoulder and waited until he tugged her back to bed.

"You need to sleep", he murmured into her hair, and she found herself smiling slightly at his concern. "I'm going to want sex in the morning."

She chuckled and, beneath the sheets, their hands touched. Tentative. For all the intimacy of sex, they still had difficulty communicating. She, fearful of rebuff. He, fearful of failure.

"Is this what you do all night?" She asked the hushed darkness, catching his restless hand in hers. She didn't expect him to answer, but neither did he turn away. With a squeeze, she released his fingers, mindful of his need for space.

"You need a piano." He grumbled after a time, sounding surprised at this small confession, knowing what permanence it intimated. "For Rachel."

"Would you play for me?" She could count the number of times she'd seen him at a piano on one hand, but the sight fascinated her. "For Rachel?"

A grunt was her only answer before the bed shifted and she felt his breath on her neck.

"Here," he said, splaying his palm across her back, caressing in a lazy rhythm. And then he began to play, slowly at first. She could feel the melody his warm hands drew over her spine, slow and melancholy before segueing into something quicker and more playful, then back again. It was several minutes before she realized he was humming, losing himself in the music in his head.

It was a place he went without her, one of many.

Eyes and heart heavy yet content, she drifted off to the press of music into her skin and his wordless lullaby echoing in her head.

~*~