This is probably a stupid, pointless thing but it itched me, for multiple reasons and I needed to write it. The setting for this one-shot is last week's episode scene when Cuddy was coming out of the shower and wearing only a towel. I liked the intimacy of that moment a lot, but I wanted to add more… so this is about unsaid things, like the title suggests. The idea came to me because of a song by The Cure called "Let's Go To Bed." And most specifically these lyrics:

"But I don't care if you don't. And I don't feel if you don't. I don't want if you don't. And I won't say it if you won't say it…"

And I don't know, it just made me want to write about that, because even if they're not spoken out loud, that doesn't mean those thoughts don't exist just the same… that's why I chose to write this as if it were a direct conversation, between House and Cuddy, speaking to each other. For those of you who already read things I wrote before, it's a bit like in "There is a us."

First part is Cuddy's thoughts and second part, House's. I hope it's obvious as it is and that you'll enjoy it.'s

** I WON'T SAY IT IF YOU WON'T SAY IT **

You're throwing that ball against the wall again. The unnerving sound that it does is enough to make me want to scream for you to stop, but that's not what bothers me most. The sound of that ball is here to tell me something and that's what bothers me most.

I know why you're throwing that ball.

You're worried again. Questioning yourself about something which doesn't seem right in your world or probably not in the place where you think it should be. Is it you? I mean you and me? Your never-ending, silent questions about us are just exactly that: never-ending and silent.

You never talk about them, or what they really are about, but I know they are there just the same, in your head, and that you never stop asking them to yourself.

Yet, you let me choose you, House. I barged into your bathroom one wrecked morning and I threw myself at you. And you took me. Goddammit, you took me, House! You could have said 'no, thank you', you could have sent me back to my fucked up life, filled with wrong choices, wrong men, wrong words… I'd told you the most horrendous, hurtful things ever and part of me meant each one of them. And I hate myself. Do you know how much I hate myself for that? Do you know how hard it is for me to live with the idea that part of me really wanted to hurt you so badly the scars would never heal? But you let me. You forgave me. You gave me a chance to know. A chance to be sure you were my right choice…

It's been months now and what? Do you want to know if I'm sure? Do you want to know if I'm happy?

Look at me House. You are one hell of a screwed up jerk, but you are the jerk I love. Does that qualify me as a stupid masochist, or a delusional romantic in your book? I don't care. You are wrong for me in every possible way there is, but you are what I need. Yes, you are going to hurt me. Yes, you are going to frustrate me. Yes, you are going to be a selfish bastard and I will resent you for not loving me unconditionally the way a little girl dreams to be loved, but can't you see I am aware it's just a little girl's dream? I'm not expecting that for real, House. Loving you is choosing the unconventional road, and that's exactly what I want. The politically correct choices don't suit me. I've tried them but they're not for me. I've tried to be the good girl and it only made me more convinced that who I wanted was you. I've struggled for years to prevent that from happening, but that was pointless. I was meant to end with you.

And now? Do I regret my choice?

Maybe I should start by telling you what I expected, what I was sure of, so you could understand why I wanted this to happen, so bad. First, there's the way you love. You know? Sex. I've always known there was so much more than this deliberately provoking side in you. You've always cultivated a way to talk about sex in an almost filthy, demeaning manner that used to push away people, like a mean to stay in control of your sexual environment. And all the reasons why, ultimately, you felt the need to hide yourself behind pretenses and let people think you were not ready – or even willing - to give yourself completely and unreservedly always crushed me. But at the same, you never really fooled me, House.

"Have you met me?" you say.

Have I? God yes! And I've always known your antics and innuendos were just a game to debase the romanticism behind it. Truth is, no other man has ever made love to me the way you do. You're a conqueror. You entered my territory and you claimed me. From the first moment we had sex, in Med-School, you decided I was yours. You think I didn't know that? I did. I just refused to admit it, from time to time, to protect myself, but you never let me believe otherwise. The way you chased me. The way you looked at me. The way you undressed me with that look. The way you interfered each and every time I was getting closer to a man that wasn't you. There was an urgent desire in that possessiveness of yours. And I always felt it.

The moment we made love again, I feared my body would combust and melt from all the passion we'd held back during all those years. I thought you wouldn't care about being gentle. But you did. You had twenty years of love imprisoned inside you and you gave it back to me, making me feel every cell of it, every pulse, and every bead of sweat that came out of it. I love sex. But with you, it's more than that. I love just the thought of it, I love thinking about it. I love wanting it. I look at you, just like now, and I crave your hands on me; the delicacy of your touch on me, and the softness of your kisses all over my body. Don't be mistaken though, we are wild, wild lovers. The wildest I've ever experienced, but you're so tender.

So tender.

People don't know that about you. I do. And I feel blessed and special to be among the very few ones accessing that secret part of you. You think you are cruel and that your words hurt. Yes, that's true: they can have that power. But only if you decide to use it, right? I'm not demanding anything. All I want is for you to be yourself with me and if it's not what I need then I will go away. Trust me House, I will never hurt myself purposely by staying with you if you're not right for me. But why would I run? When you're listening to me the way you listen to me? Why would I leave, when I can find comfort with you like I can with no one else? Why would I want to live a different life when I feel so happy in this one?

You question yourself about my daughter, I know you do. And maybe, you will never be any kind of a 'normal' father figure for her, but you will count. You do count. I see you take care of her. Even from that safe emotional distance you maintain with her, I see you're involved. But I'm not asking you to commit. I hope you see that's not what I'm asking. Rachel is everything to me, and yes, since you and I are together, you perfectly know I asked myself about her future. And that I weighed the risks I was taking when I came to you. But you know me better than that House, better than to just let yourself think it is that simple. There is no mathematical equation in those kinds of feelings. It's not black or white. Is it what frightens you? Is it why you're not letting yourself go completely? Do you fear the irrational and roaring force of our love for each other must be destructive? But why, when something is that strong, would it have to necessarily end up in a crash? I only want you.

Just like you are. You, and nothing else, are my expectations. There should be nothing wrong with that.

But I want you to argue with me. I want you to be uncompromising. I don't want you to hold back. When you disagree with me, I know you mean it for my own good. You think speaking your mind means you're selfish, or mean, but it does not. Somehow, when you yell at me, you protect me. Like you always did. You kept me away from the things that would hurt me. It made me angry because I reacted exactly like you expected me to, thinking you were only doing that for yourself, but you were not. You're generous, House. And your generosity is the most genuine that exists because you don't advertise it. I know you'd do anything for the ones you love. And I know you love me. I trust you to make me happy, because I know that's what you want for me the most. Why don't we walk slowly on our unconventional road? Small steps after small steps. We don't have to rush things. We don't have to make promises we can't keep. I don't want forever promises anyway. I just want the days to unfold, and you to be there at the end of them. With me. That, is what I need. That, is how I am happy.

# # # # #

"Your happiness doesn't take his away. It's ok to enjoy it." you tell me.

First of all, you can't talk to me wearing just a towel, with droplets of water dripping all over your half naked body like that and expect me to focus. What do you think crosses my mind right now? If it weren't the wrong hour, if you didn't need to get ready and go to work, if Rachel weren't near, or Marina about to arrive, I would… jump you.

You love it when I do that, don't you? You love it when my desire is so ravenous. And me, I love the sound of your giggle when you know what's going to happen, when I look you in the eyes intensely, just the second before, without saying a word, and saying a million words at the same time…

You have the most incredibly sexy body I've ever seen. And trust me I've seen a lot of female bodies in my screwed up life. Sluts and hookers for most of them, but hot too, I can't deny that. But you, you are different. You're from another species entirely. I've teased you and provoked you all those years about you being an administrative whore and I've made unsubtle comments about your cleavages, but that was just a stupid game. A stupid game I played because I was too afraid you would see what you were doing to me. Sometimes, the goose bumps on my skin were so strong, I was sure you would see them.

But yet, all those years when you taunted me, working near me, passing by me, and ignoring me, or just pretending to, I still knew all the same. I knew your body was made for my hands. I knew I would know just how to set it on fire. I knew I'd find all its soft spots and heavenly places. And the idea, the mere idea of someone else touching that body… your body… Geez, Cuddy, do you know how it felt? It felt worse than the pain in my leg; worse than the excruciatingly long, miserable hours of detox I've lived through. But you're looking at me just now, your incredibly sexy body leaned over mine, and you look so liberated, carefree, and beautiful. I feel like the proudest, luckiest bastard in the world. Sometimes, you know, I want to stand on that balcony again and shout to all present that you're mine. Because you are… aren't you?

I was throwing a ball up against your wall and it unnerved you. But I was doing it because it soothes me. There's a rhythmic, rocking sound within it that helps me sort out my thoughts. And I need to get them in order. When things are too quiet, I just can't help myself thinking it's the calm before the storm… I mean, isn't it incredible that all of that, us, could have never been? I guess you probably don't ask yourself that question, but I do. How can I not ask myself that question? I've always wanted you. Always. But I never dared to claim you, stupid coward that I am, other than in ridiculously deflecting ways, that is. And if you hadn't come to me, if you hadn't been brave and reckless enough for both of us, I don't know what would have happened and it terrifies me. You shot out of nowhere when I was at my lowest, and you reached out your hand to me. You helped me to my feet. And now that I am, standing straight, self-righteous and confident as ever, finally feeling good again, I wonder when it's gonna end. Not that I want it to end, God no! But I'm just so afraid it could. You stepped into my life when I was least expecting you to and you let me love you. I still don't understand all the reasons why you did but you gave me a chance. My 833rd chance and I took it. Oh yeah, I took it. That fragile, unhoped-for, wonderful chance. Don't think I'm not aware this may be my last. For real. And that's why I don't want to screw it. I can't afford screwing it. But you, at the same time, you can't play with me. You are not allowed to let me feel the way I feel if there is one chance, one tiny little chance that all of what's happening now, between us, is not deadly serious. Maybe you don't realize it fully, because I made a living out of denying it but eventually, I'm naïve. I'm just a fucking gullible man, you know. Because I can believe everything you say, if I'm not careful. It's so easy to believe what you say.

Like that thing you just told me. It's ok to enjoy happiness. Is it, really? Because, I want to. And I do somehow, enjoy it, like never before. I even feel like I'm ready, sometimes. When I'm with you, there's something airy, impalpable, and invisible. It's there, it pervades me. First, I thought it was hormonal. All those pheromones demanding to be released and the lust… I mean, does it feel good to have sex with you! Morning, noon and night. Every time. But, truth is we don't always have sex. Technically, we should though, right now, most definitely have sex, because I can tell you there's something very much alive, pulsating between my thighs and I can't explain why I'm still here, looking at you, and just… I don't know… feeling good instead of ripping that towel off of your body and push you backwards on that bed.

It would feel very right to do it, but at the same time, it doesn't feel necessary. My unquenchable physical desire for you makes me forget about my age most of the time, but still, I can just lie there too, on a bed, and enjoy your smile upon me, just your reassuring presence beside me. I'm not really used to it, but it feels familiar. You're that absolutely paradoxical and that's what I love about you. You let me taste that bliss and that's very, very dangerous you know, because now I'm addicted and it's stronger than a chemical dependency. I don't only need you to flow through my veins when I doubt or when I feel unsure and alone. The frightening reality is that I don't feel alone anymore. I think I need you all the time now. And that's what is immensely frightening. I've become painfully aware of how different my life can be when I'm with you. And if it were just me, I know what I would choose, because I don't want to be miserable again. But I'm not alone in the equation.

Cuddy, look at me. You'd better be sure. You'd better be damn sure I'm who you want, because you're 'it' and I can't let you change your mind. I can't go back now. I want all the things that are so wrong about you to be part of my life. I need the taste of your awful coffee in the morning. I need the uncomfortable sensation of your body rolling over me in the middle of the night. I need you to admonish me in the most annoying ways possible because I kept the toilet seat up. I need you to take my freedom away and invade my space until I feel the urge to run to my place, and sit there alone, realizing how much I miss you.

I am probably not going to make you happy. I am going to disappoint you, frustrate you, and even treat you bad sometimes. But as long as you'll let me, that's going to be me, loving you, like a clumsy, selfish jerk. Trying the best he can. So are you going to let me?

# # # # #

We stare at each other, in silence and it lasts an eternity.

"You wanted to say something?" You ask me, all of a sudden, frowning.

"Nope! You?"

"Nope…"

~ FIN ~

A/N

Sorry to my smutty obsessed friends who wanted this to be about "wall slamming schtup!" and I love that too but sometimes, it's just not about sex… I promise I'll do better next time though… ;-P

I hope you still enjoyed reading it nonetheless.

Comments are always nice! Thank you.

Enjoy tonight's episode, I have a very strong feeling it'll be an AWESOME one! maya