I don't own House MD, but I guess you're all smart enough to have already assumed that :) This follows on from the season 6 finale (I know, NOT original) but I hope you'll enjoy. Current rating may change dependant on reception.
Perhaps you're not an angel.
He heard his own doubts echo throughout the room, reverberating with the insane beat of a potential opiate trip; the words flowed from his own insecurities before he could even begin to comprehend the situation,
"How do I know I'm not hallucinating?"
He was standing afore the familiar precipice that had mocked him for an entire year: were his wounded and calloused fingers gripping onto a construct of his own deluded deprivation, or was this woman Lisa Cuddy? If he let go would she disappear, would he fall, or had he already hit the stone beneath? Their eyes closed the distance between them until House could have sworn she had entered his very own.
She was smiling, "Did you take the Vicodin?" It wasn't really a question; she didn't need an audible answer.
He could feel her hand on his chest, fingers resting upon the battered and filthy leather of his jacket. She felt so real, so cleansing; it was like standing beneath a waterfall as it pummelled his skin, removing the remnants of that day's death and despair. He held out a hand revealing its contents more to himself than her: two powder white tablets stared back, his hand frowned at them momentarily before wishing to vanquish them from their throne, but House waited with the will to make this moment be endured for long enough to ensure that he meant the action.
"No." House moved back to her face.
"Then I think we're okay."
"Yeah." As the words left his mouth he allowed his old friends to fall to the floor, stone cold and unwanted.
It was a rare phenomenon for Gregory House to smile with no sarcastic or cynical prompts, and as his lips curled and his eyes sparkled Lisa Cuddy followed his smile until their lips met and his hand searched for hers. A fierce magnetism that had been tugging at the two healers entwined their fingers and held them in a hypnotic embrace. Her lips were a soothing balm upon his aches and pains, caressing his own with an adamant familiarity. A hand glided along his chest to push upwards through his greying locks, holding his forehead against her own as they simultaneously gasped for breath.
"You're doing a real good job here of fixing my shoulder," House joked, his hand caressing Cuddy's cheek.
Returning the banter, she continued to stroke his hair, entwining strands between her fingers, "Well I've been out of practice for so long I've obviously forgotten how to attend to my patients."
"I'm not complaining," he planted a kiss upon her forehead and sighed.
Noting this Cuddy intercepted any possible uneasiness, "What are you sighing about?"
Resigned to the need to share he replied, "This is never going to be simple."
Frowning, she backed against the wall giving her enough room to watch him properly, "House, I know we have some stuff we need to talk about, but I really thought we could wait a little while, I didn't plan on attacking you with the topic,"
Placing a hand against the wall for support he rubbed his thigh without really considering the action, "I know, It's just... you called me a patient."
Shaking her head she reached out for his busy hand, "It was a joke House. I didn't mean it like that."
He stared down at her slim fingers that were resting upon his angry thigh, "I am your patient though: you've always had to look after me, make sure I didn't lose my licence, or kill a patient, or get locked up."
"That's me, Gregory House's very own guardian angel." She smiled back reassuringly.
House turned around too sharply in what could only be described as embarrassment and resent for who he was; his leg wavered beneath him and Cuddy rushed to bring him back to stability.
Panting slightly they stood in the destruction of his bathroom, observing one another through pieces of shattered mirror in the bathtub.
"You're not supposed to hurt your guardian angel." House gripped onto the side of the tub whilst Cuddy held him to her.
"Perhaps we angels are supposed to be impervious to pain."
"Perhaps you're not an angel."
"I'm not House, I'm just a woman."
Shaking his head, "You're not just a woman: you're Lisa Cuddy."
Short salty tears ran down Cuddy's face, hitting a shard of mirror, "Whatever this is, we're in this together. We've always been in this together."
House sat on the bathroom floor attempting to ease the throbbing pain that penetrated his right leg, Cuddy entered after throwing out the debris that had been cleared from the tub; her stride tired yet purposeful.
"You realise I'm not a real house, you can't just hammer the broken floorboards back into place and rent me out." He wasn't being a pessimist, just a realist.
She nodded in appreciation of the metaphor, "I know."
"I don't want to hurt you." He continued his furious rubbing of the missing muscle.
"I know you don't." Reaching out to secure the plug, Cuddy turned the taps and watched the bathtub begin to fill.
House cocked his eyebrow, "You not gonna give me a sponge-bath Doctor?"
Smiling with contentment she splashed a little of the bath's contents into his lap, "No Mr House, I thought you could manage a real bath, and if I may say so myself..." Pausing she awaited confirmation.
House nodded inquisitively with his approval waiting for the end of a potential innuendo.
"You're positively filthy."
Locked in a staring contest, bottled laughter protested until a straight face was no longer possible; Cuddy was the first to crack as she snorted into her hands. House followed suite with little time in between.
"Very nice delivery, well executed." He held out his hand to her, guiding toward his side.
"I thought you'd appreciate it, and to be honest I wasn't far wrong." She wiped a finger down the side of his cheek in demonstration.
House grasped her hand delicately in the process, "You know it'll take time to..."
"Fix yourself." She concluded.
"Yeah, and you have to understand that we can't just..."
"Jump into things." Cuddy interjected.
"Right. I want to be with you, but we're not ready to do that at the moment. I can't screw this up... again." Admitting this to Cuddy had helped him begin clearing his head: he wanted her, he needed her, but he was poison right now. Cuddy rested her head against his chest as he stroked her hair, pulling it free from the confines of her ponytail. "We have time. We have time for everything. Imagine I'm on dialysis: it takes a little while to filter out all of the bad stuff before I'm ready, fit for purpose. "
"What's your purpose going to be when you're done with the treatment?" she probed.
"I'm going to be yours. Until then though, we have to be slow, I'm doing this for your sake."
"But I can still help you tonight, so hurry up and get in the tub."
He was covered in grime and dirt, and he didn't look dissimilar to some of the redundant lumps of rubble back at the sight; the bath looked inviting.
Cuddy twisted the tap, shutting off the flow of water. "Come on, you know it'll help."
House leant forward to remove his dirt encrusted jacket and felt the twinge from his shoulder, gritting his teeth her persevered in an attempt of not showing any pain. Cuddy let him take his jacket off alone and waited for him to unbutton his shirt before helping him negotiate his way out of it.
"I think your shoulder's complaining."
"Yeah, some crazy administrator tried to use her healing hands on it earlier," He winked at her and then lowered his voice to a whisper, "I think she's a bit out of practice; still thinks she's a doctor."
Cuddy shot him a glaringly stern gaze before her reply, "Dean of medicine. I AM a doctor!"
Watching her get angry had always held an arousing pleasure for him, so he continued to push her, "phhfft." He waved his hand nonchalantly.
With the intention of giving him a playful slap she reached toward his arm, but instead her arm overstretched colliding with his wounded shoulder.
"Aohhww, Doctor, gratuitous violence!" He clasped his free hand to his shoulder.
"House, I didn't mean to." Suddenly feeling very embarrassed by her impromptu abuse.
House began to laugh even though he was in genuine pain, "It's fine; I probably deserved that one." He did however enjoy the very thorough examination she had now begun to give the affected area: she was close enough for him to smell her shower gel. She had obviously taken the time to cleanse herself of the day before she came to his apartment, he on the other hand needed this bath quite badly. "Okay, help me get out of this shirt without tearing my arm straight off." He hadn't realised what he'd said until it came out and then there was an elephant in the room.
Doing her best not to be too blunt, Cuddy complied with his request, "How is Hanna?"
House dragged his eyes to a far away wall, his own intense desire to scream gnawing at the tiles, "She didn't make it to the hospital."
Recoiling slightly Cuddy attempted to steady her breath, "Oh House, I'm sorry."
"Don't be, wasn't my fault... fat embolus." He didn't want to be pitied, he didn't want to have her empathise and share his own pain, he was tired and sad and he just couldn't face it all anymore.
"But she got to see her husband one last time, you gave her that." She cupped his cheeks in her palms, turning his despondent head towards her.
With desperate agitation he spat his words out in anger, "How is that a good thing, she still died. Seeing her husband didn't save her life, it just gave him a terrible experience."
"No House, no." She pleaded desperately to get him to understand, to get him to contemplate how comforting that one last time could be, "Do you know how it feels to know you're never going to see someone again, to never say goodbye?"
House blinked, he didn't know. He'd been the one too busy having near death experiences ever to be a bystander.
"It's the worst pain you could ever contemplate." She could see confusion in his weary eyes, "Your infarction surgery, getting shot, the bus crash and all the heart attacks and seizures that came with it, your motorcycle accident..."
House held up a hand, "Stop, I get the gist."
"I never want to leave you without saying goodbye." Breathing heavily she began to help him remove his t-shirt, his face still wore the lines of shock that she had helped paint there, but she worked past that until he sat before her with his bare torso. She took the brief opportunity to admire him rather like a painter watching the canvas that bore them upon the background; he was a part of her, a part that has been over twenty years in formulation and was only just beginning to make sense.
"Seeing as you're getting to see me without my clothes on I'm thinking it's time you removed yours." He hinted hopefully.
She smiled at his lewd comment, "I thought we decided that there's time for that, time for everything."
"Yes, but magnificent things should be admired."
He sounded relatively sincere, of course it was just his sense of humour, but beneath it she could almost feel his honesty and her cheeks responded with the colour crimson. "Come on; take your pants off you silly man-child."
"Ohh come on, stop with the blushing; you can't act like you don't know it." He teased.
Cuddy pursed her lips and shook her head slightly as he unzipped his pants and tried to wiggle out of them. "Your compliments are a little unconventional."
Pushing his pants aside he sat there in just his boxers, and he witnessed her eyes glide toward his deformed thigh. Quickly he avoided her gaze and attempted to cover the scar inconspicuously with his right hand.
"Do you blame me for it?" She asked with a wavering uncertainty tainting her words.
He didn't take any time to answer, "No."
"Then you don't need to hide it away from me." She took his hand in her again and pulled it to her lips planting kisses upon his bruises.
"Sometimes I want to blame the way I act on it, but really I'm just an ass." It was an apology masquerading as a statement.
She drew herself close to his ear, near enough to whisper, "Your right, you are an ass; but that's what your 'dialysis' is for." She kissed his cheek tenderly, "Now take your boxers off and get in the bath before it gets cold."
"Right, but you better close your eyes."
Acquiesce to his request, she shut her lids tightly, listening to the sound of House entering the tub, displacing the water and sighing with relief. Repositioning herself, Cuddy slid along the tiles against the tub so she could use it as a support, she allowed her aching neck to drop back so it was resting against the plastic rim.
Houses left hand draped itself lazily against the side, close enough to touch her, close enough to feel her beneath his touch. A hand willed its way toward soft brown curls, contemplating the beauty of the creature within their grasp. He knew her well enough to close his eyes and examine every feature that had accessible to him day in, day out for ten years; he had seen all of her many years ago, and his mind had often conjured that image again and again, but his hand was willing its way towards her, to at least allow her to see him. His fingers felt her skin beneath them, moaning in pleasure, wanting more. "Lisa, open your eyes."
Lisa... she obeyed him with wonder, turning to kneel against the waters barrier, chasing the hand that guided her towards him. Her eyes marvelled at his nudity: seeing him there wasn't just her seeing a naked man, she was watching Gregory House making his greatest effort and sacrifice for the sake of her. Observing him haul his way to sit upright despite the obvious pain of his injured limb wasn't merely a struggle, it was his moment to show he wanted change. Feeling his hands reach down her waist to the hem of her scrub top wasn't merely a man undressing her, it was a moment where he could unfurl the barrier that she willed to be removed. As she unhooked her bra House traced the delicate skin from her lips to neck with a pattern of delicate kisses, his stubble grazing the area with a fiery passion that contrasted with the sensitivity of his actions. Hungry for more she pulled his mouth to hers, interlocking them with vigour.
She was a goddess, a half naked goddess kneeling on his bathroom floor, her hands wantonly caressing his body, wanting to be closer. She stood up, reluctant to pull away from his kiss, and began to remove the rest of her attire, eyes interlocked, never leaving one another. As she slid of her underwear a knock penetrated the silence.
Again. House sighed in powerful exasperation, "Really?"
And again. Cuddy began to climb back into her clothes.
And again, followed by a voice, "House!"
It was familiar, it was Wilson. The door was unlocked, and there he was.