Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. They belong to Fox and David Shore & Co.
A/N: Consider any spoilers from an episode aired in the US to date fair game. Also, I will earn this M rating. Eventually.
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"House!" She was too concerned to mask it in her voice. He had lost his step and had grabbed for whatever he could to keep from falling. It just so happened that Cuddy was the closest thing to him. They're uncomfortably contorted, her trying to help him to his feet, him hunching over, inadvertently pulling her down with him.
"House. Are you okay?" She'd given in and slowly brought him to the floor, kneeling next to him.
"Peachy." He managed to spit out. She only sighed in response. Not knowing exactly in what way to comfort him. Sometimes the line between helping and hurting wasn't so clear with him. She kept her hand on his back, trying to keep it as still as possible so as not to give away her uneasiness. He breathed heavily, rubbing his leg up and down. He felt the familiar fire pulsating through his thigh and he could feel the heat in other, unrelated places. He often felt pain everywhere when his leg was this bad.
When the pain had eased up ever so slightly, he felt the heat in his cheeks as well, as he gave her a quick embarrassed look with his furrowed brow. He turned away tucking his chin down. He didn't like being vulnerable like this in her presence, it gave credence to her perverse sense of guilt that frankly annoyed him.
"M'fine." He tries to stand but the fire shoots through him and he lets out sudden grunt that startles her.
"House. You're not fine. Come sit." She tried to guide him to the chair in the corner of his office. He just shook his head and sunk further to the floor. She bends her legs underneath her and sits on her calves. She puts her hand back on his back. "House," she says as if were a statement in itself.
"Just go."
"I've haven't seen you this bad since-"
"Go." He's fumbling around his pocket for his Vicodin and she calmly pushes his hand aside and grabs the bottle, opens it, sifts two pills out and hands them to him. He quickly throws his head back in that addict manner that always bothered her. "More" he spits out.
"More than two at a time is n-"
"Wouldn't want you to feel guilty," He says through clenched teeth, grabbing the bottle out of her hand and swallowing a few more. She tightened her cheeks and watched with a sympathetic furrowed brow. Truth be told she felt guilty as hell and while he was usually good at not reminding her how much of his pain was her fault, he didn't mind rubbing it in at the moment.
It would take a minute for the pills to kick in so for the moment he grabbed at his thigh with desperately quick movements, attempting to rub the pain away. He made fists and ground them into the skin around his scar.
"Here." She pushed his hand away again, rubbing his leg for him. If she was in any way unsure of her actions, it didn't show. House was surprised. He fought the urge to stop her, intrigued by her willingness to put herself in such a vulnerable position. He knew if he spoke he'd ruin it. If he said the wrong thing, she'd stop.
She nearly flinched at the feeling of the rippled flesh under the fabric of his pants. Her fingers made their way along the outside of the deep canyon of missing muscle, feeling what was left of it tense under her touch. She pushed her stiffened fingertips into the flesh around his scar, occasionally grazing it and feeling a pang of guilt every time she imagined it.
She was being cautious, each movement tentative. She'd seen the way he went at his leg earlier; rough, rapid movements. She was too afraid of hurting him to go at him with the same fervor he did on himself. She was startled by his hand suddenly enveloping hers and placing it directly on top of his scar with no discretion. With his hand firmly gripped around hers he proceeds to roughly massage his leg with her hand.
"Later I'll teach you the 'happy ending' technique," Once he was sure she'd gotten the hang of it he let go and they sat in silence for about a minute while she rubbed his leg. Finally, the silence getting the better of her, she spoke.
"You could be getting better." She said, thinking-- hoping maybe the nerves in his leg were finally regenerating.
"Doubt it." He said, knowing better than to hope. He'd hoped once before and it was thrown back in his face. He felt a little bubble of pain pop in his thigh just thinking about it. She was thinking about it too. She felt a little guiltier with the thought of it and became more focused on her attempts to make him feel better. He felt her sudden enthusiasm with each stroke of his thigh. He hadn't expected it to actually make him feel any better but, if he was being honest it did feel a little better. Good even. But it was probably just the Vicodin starting to kick in.
"Let me do an MRI." She said, almost pleading.
"No need." He said, watching her work. Admiring it from his angle. He could see down her shirt. Not that it was difficult, with the blouse she was wearing. He thought about making a comment about how the girls were looking particularly pert today but thought better on it. He ignored his sudden birth of a conscience.
"House, if your leg is getting better- or worse. You should know." he didn't know what to tell her. He knew his leg wasn't getting better, not only was it highly unlikely but he happened to know for a fact that it wasn't getting better. Or worse, for that matter. His leg was hurting because earlier he had challenged a cane-bound patient to a cane race down the hall. He knew it would cause him pain later but her couldn't refuse when someone baited him like that. Anyway, he'd won. He knew if he told her that, however, he would lose all of this sudden sympathy. So he didn't dare give up that information.
"We both know my leg isn't getting better," he said simply.
"Well, what if it's getting worse?" She didn't look at him. She was afraid to for some reason. She didn't want to see his reaction to that question. She'd seen him a broken man enough to shy away from the idea of it. She hates seeing him like that.
"Maybe I don't want to know." He said, feigning a wounded expression when her eyes shot up to look at him.
"You can't be serious. House, you fought to keep your leg before and now you're giving up?" He was enjoying this game, and hiding it well. He was using her for his own... desire? Was he using her for the massage? That seemed pathetic, even for him.
"I'm not giving up," he almost laughed "Maybe I'd rather live my life blissfully ignorant." He was reminding himself of 13, back when she refused to get tested. But that didn't even sound like him and she knew it.
"I thought you were all about the truth." She stopped rubbing.
"And I thought you were giving me a massage."
"House, I'm not giving you anything until you let me MRI your leg." She thought
"I'll let you do whatever you want to me, just keep going." She laughed and continued rubbing his thigh. He loves her laugh. Deep, almost like a smoker but still had a feminine quality to it. And she has a beautiful smile that, on the rare occasion House gets to see it, can really light a room up.
He could see the look of concentration on her face. She was rocking back and forth, leaning into him as if purposefully allowing him a perfect view down her shirt. She must have noticed. Maybe she was just ignoring him. 'Maybe she likes it,' he mused with a smile.
"Stop it." She said with a laugh.
"Stop what?" house asked innocently.
"It doesn't make me any more comfortable doing this with you leering at me with that goofy smile."
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid if I look away I might accidentally imagine Debby from accounting and I don't think that would be comfortable for either of us."
"Oh, I don't do it for you anymore?" She laughed.
"I dunno. Do you?" His tone was suggestive, not that she wasn't used to it but in the particular situation it wasn't welcomed.
"You look like you're doing better." She says, attempting to remove her hand. Before she can, house grabs her hand, keeping it rested on his thigh, which, after the Vicodin had kicked, was feeling much better.
"It hurts," he says quite seriously.
"It always hurts. The pills must be working by now."
"You want your MRI..." She sighs and continues. This time, with less enthusiasm. Her hand doesn't dig into his muscle, just glides across its surface, like a soft caress. House can't tell which he likes best. On one hand, he misses the slight bounce of her breast as she had tried to lesson the ache of his muscle, on the other hand, this new, softer massage sent a shiver though him.
It was cold in his office. He could tell she was cold just from looking at the way her nipples beaded through her shear button down blouse. He imagined her touching him like this under different circumstances, though her outfit didn't leave much to the imagination. Her tight pencil skirt hugged her figure nicely, showing off the perfect plumpness of her ass. The neckline of her blouse, with the top three buttons undone, exposed the rounded tops of her breasts which with the new vision of her nipples, he could now imagine completely. And her face, she really was beautiful. Exotic, even. Her eyes were a pale blue, they were cold and juxtaposed the warmth of her deep brown hair that shimmered underneath the light of the floor lamp in his office. She truly was a sight to behold. And now she was on her knees, absentmindedly letting her hand roam away from his scar to his inner thigh.
It moved. In his pants he felt it move. Shit. Had she noticed? She didn't seem to. She was lost in thought. He wondered what she was thinking about.
She felt guilty and always had. She was just helping out a friend with his pain which, to some degree, was her fault. That was the only way she could reconcile sitting on the floor of his office with him, leaning in such away that she was sure he could see at least a fraction of her bra, maybe more. She knew what he was looking at and let him still. Her heart raced a bit at the thought of him watching her. She didn't dare look up to catch him, or look anywhere but at his thigh. But she could imagine him staring, with that intense look on his face. It made her nervous to think of him examining her so closely. She hated that about him. She was a confident woman who worked damn hard to get where she was so how is it that she was reduced to a preteen girl in his presence. She stoops to his level when they bicker and banter, she's insecure when he makes wisecracks about her assets and indulges his every sexual innuendo. Though if she were being honest, she is a stronger person for it and enjoys every second of it.
She can see his dark blue eyes watching her in her peripheral vision. His eyes really are beautiful. His mussed hair and stubble are also visible in her peripheral, placed on his stone-still figure, that was now watching her very closely. She imagined his face directly in her mind and while she'd told hi many times before to comb his hair and shave his five o'clock shadow off completely, they had grown on her. She was beginning to find even his wrinkled shirts a bit sexy. She feels a burn in her cheeks and forehead. She wonders if he can tell she's flushed. 'Of course he can, he notices everything!' she thinks to herself. He can probably tell what she's thinking right now. The thought scared her and she decided to focus more on what she's doing. When she does this, she realizes her hand has strayed from the scar and was now practically stroking his inner thigh. Maybe if she slowly moves it back to where it's supposed to be he won't notice. 'Of course he notices!' she scolds herself. Before she can move her hand back to its proper position, she sees it. He's aroused.
"House!" She yells at him.
"What?" He seems calm with the idea of having become aroused while his boss massaged his scar. He was a tinge embarrassed but hell if he was going to let her know that.
"You're- You've got a..." she was not so good at hiding her embarrassment and her cheeks became three shades redder. It made him relax even more at the sight of her discomfort.
"A hard on?" he offered.
"Yes! You've got an erection." She said almost angrily, motioning to his groin.
"What's the matter? I thought you'd be proud."
"Not exactly." She said, calming down now.
"Well you earned it." She rolled her eyes, standing, trying to gain some distance from him. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to leave you to... deal with things." She explained, taking a step towards the door.
"You get me going and then you don't deliver?" He seemed genuinely upset but still had humor in his eyes.
"You think this is my fault?"
"Well I certainly didn't arouse myself! At least I hope not." He paused a second to pretend to mull that over. "And I'm not the one who was caressing my own inner thigh. In case you hadn't noticed, my adductor muscle is in perfect condition."
"I-" She had hoped he wouldn't bring that up. "I didn't mean to," she explained quietly.
"Well neither did I," He said referring to what now created a nice tent in his pants.
"Well what do you expect me to do, House? What is the appropriate way to handle this?" She knew what he was going to say.
"You just massaged me into arousal on the floor of my office. There is no appropriate way to handle this."
"Yes there is. I should go and we should never speak of this again." She knew it was a long shot. House would never let this go. She could practically hear it now 'Hey Cuddy! Remember that time you gave me a woody?" She's already rolling her eyes at the thought of it.
"Then go. If that's what you want." He said trying to stand, appearing to struggle more than was necessary. She bent over and offered her hand to help him. He didn't take it. She walked over to grab his arm to help him, he didn't stop her. Once he was standing they just stood there. She thought about it for a second. He was making her so nervous. Like high school.
"Is it what you want?"
"You know what I want," he smiled. He took a small, nearly painless step in her direction.
"I think..." She stopped mid thought and changed directions, unbeknownst to him. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "-I think you should go to the bathroom and take care of this yourself." She took a moment before giving him a quick nod, reaffirming her decision. She left House standing in his office. Disappointed and erect.
xxxx
TBC?