The pills clenched tightly in his hand, he stared at the door. He knew she would come through at any moment. The last time he was about to give in, she came in, like his angel in the night, and she saved him. Tears still stung in his eyes from the conversation not more than a few moments ago.
Sitting at his piano, he was contemplating playing a song out of sheer joy. His girlfriend was cancer-free, and he had saved his patient. He didn't much care about the patient, but what the hell? Might as well tack on another reason to celebrate. As his hands hovered over the keys, he heard a soft knock on the door, distinctive of his girlfriend, Lisa Cuddy. He grabbed his cane and hobbled over to the door as fast as he could, though he had to wonder what she was doing out of bed so soon after going under the knife.
He swung open the door with a soft smile, but he was met with a look swirled with anger and sadness. The first words out of her supple lips almost sent him to the floor. "You took Vicodin." His face went blank, but he tried not to show anything more. "When you came to my hospital room that night, you were stoned."
He softly sighed, knowing the game was up. He should have known she'd figure it out. Her deductive skills were part of the attraction that he held for her. "How did you know?"
"How did I not know?" she asked. "How did I make myself forget for months that you're an addict? My subconscious was trying to tell me you could never get through this without drugs."
Could he justify this? His only excuse that he could think of was, "It was a one-time thing."
She just looked at him, more sadness leaking into her features. "It's not about the pills, House," she murmured. "It's about what they mean."
"I was scared because I thought my girlfriend might die!"
"No!" She started walking into his apartment, getting closer to him. "You don't take Vicodin because you're scared. You take it so you won't feel pain. Everything you've ever done is to avoid pain: drugs, sarcasm, keeping everybody at arm's length so no one can hurt you."
He scoffed. "As opposed to everyone else in the world who goes looking for pain like it's buried treasure?"
Sadness was overwhelming her face, but a small smile still graced her lips. "Pain happens when you care." He saw that she was going to start stumbling for words soon. Her eyes were glistening with tears yet to come, and he knew then that he had really fucked up.
"You-you can't love someone without making yourself open to their problems…their fears. You're not willing to do that."
"I-I came to be with you." He tried, at least.
"But you weren't with me…not really."
"I wanted to be." And he had. Taking Vicodin wasn't the right move, but he knew it was the only way he could be with her mentally.
"That's not enough," she whispered.
He promised, "I can do better." He meant it.
"I don't think you can. You'll choose yourself over everybody else over and over again because that's just who you are." She shook her head lightly and touched his cheek. He relished her touch, as light and delicate as it was. The tears were starting in his eyes, and he saw they were in her eyes too.
"I'm sorry."
And his heart sunk like a stone. He knew what was coming next.
"No. No no no. Don't. Don't!" Please! he thought with agony as his heart tore itself in two.
"I thought I could this," she whispered.
No… "Don't. Please don't…" he begged. The delicate touch of her fingertips slowly pulled away from his cheek, taking the half of his heart that she owned with her.
"Goodbye, House," Cuddy breathed, and she quickly turned away and ran out the door. He watched her leave with his heart, unable to move.
"Cuddy…"
He didn't know how long he stood there. All he knew was that his feet were glued to the floor; his whole body frozen with horror. Without realizing it, his body drug itself to the medicine cabinet and had torn it off the wall. His stash was still sitting there, haunting him with its beautiful numbness.
The cabinet shattered on the floor, glass sprinkled everywhere. He saw his pain reflected every time he looked down, and he couldn't stand it. He clutched the bottle until his knuckles went white. Could he? Should he? But he didn't care. He didn't want to feel the pain that flooded his brain; he just needed to forget everything.
The pills slipped into his hand, a white sense of peace. And he stared at the door, waiting for her. He knew she would come. She had faith in him to come through for her, even if he came to her room stoned. He had the same faith that she would save him from the darkness about to consume him.
"House…" she murmured. There she was, standing in the door. "Please don't. You don't need those."
"Yes," he growled, a tear slipping away. "I don't want to feel the pain. You left. You gave up!" he yelled, feeling the anger flood through his veins.
She kneeled down beside him and pried his hand open to pull the pills away, but he kept it clenched shut. "No, I didn't. I never gave up on you."
"You walked away. You left me."
"From the pain of you needing pills to see me. I couldn't stand the pain…just like you, I guess," Cuddy admitted. "I can't stand to see you hurt, to see your demons consume you again."
He sighed. "I'm already in hell. These demons are my friends." He looked at her earnestly and saw how red her face was, the mascara streaked from her eyes. "You were my saving grace…my angel."
She wrenched his hand back into hers and stared him down. "Then let me save you." His grip loosened, and she managed to set the pills on the floor next to the toilet before capturing his lips in a desperate kiss.
Their mouths moved in sync, swallowing each other's pain from the break-up hours ago. His hands coarsely ran over her body, roughly clenching her clothes to make sure she was still here. He wasn't willing to lose her again.
"House," she quietly begged, an apology lacing into her voice. He got up and forced her to the bedroom, his lips barely leaving hers. One by one, their clothes made a fiery trail, and they collapsed into his bed together, a tangled cluster of arms and legs. House kissed her from her lips to her naval, and he felt her warmth as she arched into him, gasping with lust.
He felt nothing but bliss being over her, the pain of his leg and from earlier completely gone for the time being. He swiftly plunged into her, and they both moaned with pleasure. He swiftly moved in and out, the rage and passion still consuming him as he tried to thrust away the memory. Cuddy met him with each thrust, pulling him down so she could bite his neck, knowing it was an instant turn-on.
Each bite, each thrust, brought him closer, and in their sync, he felt the sadness finally melt away and the passion fill them both. Her face was writhed in a beautiful pleasure, and he knew by the furrowing of her brow that she was close. He leant down, still thrusting, and whispered, "Just let go."
She did, and tears ran down as she screamed, her walls clenching him tight. He tried to hold on, but he couldn't last any longer and finally let go, coming shortly after her. He felt wetness on his face as well as he groaned, letting everything go in one fell swoop. They let go of everything from earlier, a silent forgiveness passing between the two as they orgasmed.
House rolled to his side and looked into her eyes, sweeping her hair behind her ear. She was softly sobbing, and all he knew that he could do was wrap her in his arms and hold her until she stopped. So he gently pulled her closer and let her head fall on his chest as her body shuddered with sobs.
The light cracked through his window, temporarily blinding him until he rolled over and groaned. "Too fucking early to be woken up like this," he muttered, looking at his alarm clock. The red numbers blinked 10:00 AM, and he shook himself awake a little more.
In a flash, the remnants of last night came back to him, and he jerked up, looking around for her. "Cuddy?" he called, pulling himself out of bed. His clothes lay scattered on the floor, but hers were nowhere to be found. He dragged himself out to the living room, but there was no trace of her anywhere.
Well, it is ten, and she is the dean of medicine, he rationalized. So he chose to hobble to the bathroom and get ready for the day. Might as well drag himself into work in the hopes of seeing her beauty once more.
The mirror still glittered on the floor, but he ignored it. Nothing that needed to be picked up right away. But he knew he should at least put away the pills to remove the temptation. If they were back together, he needed to make an effort to get over his addiction. He had to be better for her; he couldn't lose her again.
Looking around the toilet, he didn't see anything. He furrowed his brow, knowing they should be there, but maybe Cuddy put them away before she left. So he picked up the bottle and opened it, deciding to count and make sure.
"There should be ten…" he mused, counting each pill into his hand. "One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight…" But that was it. No more pills rattled from the bottle into his hand. Two were missing.
And it suddenly hit him as the bottle fell to the floor, the pills clattering shortly behind. Everything that happened last night: Cuddy saving him, the sex, and tears; it was nothing but a drug-induced hallucination. He was hooked without even knowing it.
His knees gave in, and as he hit the floor, a sob fighting its way out of his throat, just one word slipped from his lips.
"Cuddy…"
It's been a while since I wrote fanfiction, and this is my first time writing for House. This is also my first time writing mature content. I appreciate any and all critique, but please try to be gentle!