Part 9

The takeout had turned cold by the time they re-emerged from the bedroom and neither of them cared.

She sent him to the living room while she went to the kitchen. There, he took up a seat on the couch and watched her load a serving tray with the opened boxes of food. Her every move was suffused with sensuality and she looked at ease in a way he rarely saw her.

Usually she was engaged or preoccupied. She spent a lot of time planning and enacting plans. She juggled a lot professionally. Personally, her life appeared as barren as his own, perhaps more so. He had Wilson at least, and her, at times. She had Wilson, too, but differently, and House was fairly certain he had been less available for her than she had been for him. He didn't know if she had other friends but he knew she rarely dated and he'd seen no sign of interactions with others beyond hospital functions, the occasional phone calls from her mother, and calls and emails from her sister.

His ignorance was due to selfishness. He hadn't cared about her social engagements so long as she engaged with him and no one else was vying for her attention. It was a childish perspective and one that was no longer an option for him to use after seeing her at her most vulnerable and allowing himself to be vulnerable with her.

He had no doubt he would still pull pranks, and be selfish, and an ass, and face off with her when the opportunities presented themselves, but things had changed between them. The board had been reset and he did not know how different the game would be now. He just knew it wasn't a game any more — and never had been.

They had definitely played games. They had flirted. And it had been fun, except whenever they'd taken things far enough to wound. He'd done it too often and he regretted it; he always had, even when he hadn't possessed the courage to admit it. Still, she had forgiven him every time and was letting him be with her now. He wasn't sure he would ever understand why but he was grateful.

His eyes tracked her movements as she lifted the tray and brought into the living room. When she neared the couch, he reached for the tray and took it from her. He set it on the coffee table while she sat near him.

He handed her one of the containers and a set of chopsticks after she pulled her legs up onto the couch and settled. He then picked out the one that held his favorite dish and relaxed into his corner.

"This is good," she said after a few moments.

He agreed. Even cold, good Chinese was still good. More than once, he'd eaten leftovers while standing within the open door of the refrigerator. It was a perfectly bachelor thing to do but he would probably do it even if he were involved.

Involved.

Looking at Cuddy, he wondered if they were involved now? He knew they could be, if they both wanted it. But he wasn't sure if she would want it, or even if he did. It was too soon to ask or discuss it, especially considering the catalyst for the change in their relationship. Time would tell if would be more. She would want to talk about it at some point. He wasn't much for talking but he knew it would be necessary. They needed to know … something.

For now, though, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and filled his stomach while she filled her own. He surprised her when he took on the task of cleaning up. He liked the expression of delight and wonder that descended when he stood and picked up the tray.

She followed him and he glanced to see her leaning in the doorway of the kitchen and watching him as he tossed the chopsticks and empty cartons into the trash. She looked bemused.

"What?" he asked.

She just shook her head, prompting him to turn back to the island and close up the few leftovers before putting them in the fridge. She came up to him when he was done and kissed his cheek before easing away. She grazed her fingers along his arm as she retreated and he took it as an invitation.

He trailed after her to his bathroom. He admired the perfection of her ass when she leaned over and turned the water on in his tub. He propped his shoulder against the door jamb and ogled every inch of her after she set the drain plug, righted herself, and shed the pajama top.

Wow.

Up until this point, he'd only seen her nude in semi-darkness, enough to know she was beautiful, but seeing her in the brightness of his bathroom…

Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe her.

He went to her before she could turn to him. He touched her cheek and guided her gently to an angle that made it easy for him to kiss her. She threaded her fingers into his hair as returned the soft smacks.

She smiled up at him when he drew back but looked a little self-conscious. He smiled when she revealed why.

"Do you have an extra toothbrush?"