SIMPLE
May be the beginning of a series… if I can get my act together.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sigh.
The thing is, after years of schoolgirl pining and obsessive overanalyzing; after military level planning and blackmailing, after a feeble attempt at manipulating, after finally giving up and giving in, and after calmly and logically settling for someone else, I found myself in bed with Gregory House. And what I couldn't wrap my head around was the fact that it turned out to be so effortless, so simple; it almost seemed an accident. I don't know how it happened.
It started out as a perfectly normal day. The weather wasn't particularly nice, or particularly dreadful Maybe it was cloudy. The ER wasn't any crazier than usual. I don't remember being tired, or wired or happy, or blue. In retrospect, the only thing unusual about the day was just how unremarkable it appeared. Even now, when I look back on the day I can't recall anything about it. I couldn't tell you what I had for lunch, or how I wore my hair, or what music was on my iPod as I went for a jog. I didn't do anything out of the ordinary, except that at the very end of the day I was lying awake in House's arms while he pretended to be asleep. Feigned sleep allowed him to press me tightly across his chest with one arm and lightly stroke my lower back with his other hand, while retaining the right to deny later he had consciously engaged in cuddling. So there he was, pretending to be asleep and never quite managing to calm his breath. And there I was, awestruck and dazed; my head resting on his chest while my thoughts restlessly swirled within.
How could this wondrous thing have happened? Because it was a wondrous thing. His kiss -who initiated it? I can hardly remember how it started, except that suddenly we were both devouring each other- was awkward and we couldn't find a rhythm for the longest time. All I knew was that I was very hungry and very thirsty and his mouth was drink and nourishment and all the answers that I would ever need.
His stubble brushed against my face, his tongue darted into my mouth, his hands sometimes in my hair, sometimes behind my neck, on my breasts, never for long, like a teenager making out for the first time, trying to touch everything all at once, trying to possess everything in the space of a kiss.
And I, with my unquenchable hunger, my overwhelming thirst.
Where were we when all this started? What words did I speak? What was he talking about? Because we were talking about something perfectly unremarkable as we walked out into the parking lot. He got to his bike first, and I meant to walk on, walk to my car, which was parked where I always park. I said, "see you tomorrow." Or maybe I said "good night" or "bye." And he said, which I remember with perfect clarity, "Yeah." It was this simple monosyllable that caused me to stop and turn. And then, as silly, as inexplicable as this may sound, we just looked at each other for a moment before walking into each other's arms and lips and hands.
The simplest thing in the world.