Part 14

Cuddy laughed out loud when she finally got a look at House's tattoo.

It was simple, just a couple words, but they were perfectly true and definitely something Wilson wouldn't feel the least bit guilty about sticking House with.

"I'm an…" was inked right there on his butt cheek. I'm an ass.

"Like that, do you?" House asked.

He was laying on his side on the bed while she was leaning over him to peek at the marking. She glanced up at him with a thoroughly amused smile.

"It's perfect," she told him then on impulse, kissed it before laying back down beside him. She pulled the sheet up to her chest as she rested her head on his arm and met his gaze. He was smiling but she could see melancholy surfacing in his eyes and knew thoughts of Wilson were surfacing for him.

Reaching out, Cuddy laid her hand in the palm of House's, which rested on the bed beside. His mouth twitched, one corner curling up just a bit more when he laced their fingers. His attention flickered to their hands then back to her.

When he didn't say anything, she asked him if he was okay.

He answered with an incredibly familiar look of mischief. "Come here," he coaxed, curling his arm and urging her toward him. She turned onto her side but he wanted more, telling her, "I'm hungry."

"We just ate," she stated the obvious even as she raised up on her elbow.

"Yeah, but I didn't have dessert," he replied, pulling his face into a fake frown. He patted his chest and looked at her with puppy dog eyes. "Come on up here."

The corner of her mouth pulling up into a quirk of a smile, Cuddy shook her head at him even as she did what he requested. "You're a very bad man."

"Yeah, but you like me bad," he said as he helped her straddle his chest. As she settled, his eyes widened when he looked at her sex. He made a quick shake of his head, as if to clear his gaze, then looked at her again before exhaling an exaggerated "Wow."

Cuddy laughed softly. "I do seriously wonder how old you…" she began, only to moan when he lifted his head and showed her exactly how old he was "… are … oh … God … House."

That was the last conscious thought she had for a while as he set about making her completely incoherent. Her head falling back, she gripped the headboard with one hand and sank the fingers of the other into his hair and luxuriated in the pleasure he was clearly intent on providing. His deft tongue knew the what, when, and where of her very well and his memory didn't fail him.

She gasped and groaned, shifted forward to ease the strain in his neck. Feeling the end nearing, she looked down and found him watching her, his eyes so full of knowing of her. The intimacy that look communicated surpassed the physical act itself and sent her into rapturous abandon.

Sometime later, Cuddy realized she was laying on the bed again. House was spooned behind her, holding her. When she shifted a bit, he hugged her closer to him and shushed her gently, murmuring, "Sleep."

Unable to think of a reason not to, Cuddy closed her eyes and drifted into slumber. It held her for a while, but she couldn't say how long. When she awoke, House was no longer in the bed with her. She looked for him in the dark, glancing over her shoulder first to see if he was in the bathroom. Not seeing him there, she sought him out in front of her and found him sitting in the armchair. It took a moment for her to make out that he was watching her. His hand was on the table, cradling one of the plastic cups. It wasn't empty, but the bottle of scotch beside it held less than it had before.

"When the pain got bad…"

House's voice was soft but strained, barely audible but a veritable shout in the darkness from the very nature of what he was saying.

"…I ended it."

Tears welled and spilled and Cuddy felt a deep ache begin in her heart. For Wilson and what he'd endured. For the man in the shadows across from her who'd just confessed he'd eased the suffering of his dying friend.

Love. Mercy.

Not knowing what to say, Cuddy simply lifted the sheet and invited House back to bed. He came, limping the few steps necessary to join her. She spooned him this time and held onto him.

Feeling his tears fall to burn her upper arm, she acknowledged them with a whisper, "You loved him."

And with those words, he broke open. His whole body shook against hers as he wept. She cried with him, for him, every part of her keenly aware of the personal price he'd paid and the courage and strength he'd had to find in order to do it.

And this is why Wilson reached out.

He had to have asked House to do it and known in asking what it would cost his friend in the end. It was probably the most selfless thing House had ever done. It had definitely been an act of love.

House had loved Wilson unconditionally and of all the people in the world, Wilson had dared to return that love in kind. She'd say they were like brothers but to label their relationship as such would lessen what they were to each other. Friendship was something given, not required. It was a choice. It was a sacred acceptance of someone, faults and all. It was House and Wilson.

And now there was just House, without his anchor, having cut the tether himself. And he'd sat in this room alone for days, unsure if she would come.

Dear God.

The walls of her heart closing in on themselves, Cuddy brushed a kiss to House's cheek and told him exactly what she thought of him in that moment. They were words she'd said before but wanted him to hear again. So she breathed them softly near his ear, tightening her embrace as she did.

"You are still the most incredible man I've ever known."