Sadly, I don't own House or Wilson and this ficlet is not intended to violate the owners' copyrights. This very short vignette is set about 5 years after "Everybody Dies." It was just running around in my head and it wanted to be written down. Bobby Cuddy-House and Captain Hook, AKA, The Cat, are original characters.
Thank You, My Love
His patient would live. With IVs started and all the appropriate monitors hooked up, House finally could go home. It had been a long three days and it was two-thirty in the quiet of a Sunday morning when House, practically stumbling from exhaustion, limped into the kitchen through the door from the garage. He made his way to the master bath, closed the door, and took a quick shower, unwilling to bring several days of hospital smells into bed with him. Out in the bedroom, by the dim light of the night light so as not to wake Cuddy, he pulled on a clean tee shirt and sleep pants. He climbed under the covers, trying not to rock the bed too much.
The sheets smelled fresh, overlain by the delicate scent of Cuddy's perfume. The cool, crisp cotton against his arms felt delicious. He turned on his left side, nestled into the pillow, and felt Cuddy's arm slide around his waist. The foot of the bed dipped slightly as Captain Hook stretched, kitty fashion, and settled down again on top of the comforter.
Home. Gentle quiet filled the night air. Bobby no longer needed the baby monitor, though House missed the little noises Bobby made while he slept. Most nights House got up to check on the children, but this night, sleep was claiming him. He wrapped his hand over Cuddy's. "Thank you," he murmured.
She was more awake than he thought. "For what?" she asked, against his shoulder blade.
He reached up to hold her hand. "For Rachel. For Bobby. For making a home. For taking care of me. For loving me."
He felt her kiss on his spine through the fabric of the tee shirt. "You're worth it," she said, against his suddenly sensitive back.
He was drifting into sleep. "Enjoy what's left of your night," she whispered. "If I can't head them off, in about three hours, your little pirates are going to be bouncing around on top of you, demanding their Sunday morning story."
House issued an ostentatious snore. Cuddy giggled against his back, and he fell asleep for real, warm and loved.