Hi!

It has been forever, but I am back with a new drabble. I've been cutting myself a lot of slack lately, but I'm hoping to write and publish more often this summer. Hopefully. Fingers crossed.

This drabble is set in very early season 5. I know it's linked with my friend House-less - we'd discussed it, but did you request it?

It's not the happiest drabble, but I hope that you'll nonetheless enjoy it. Thank you for reading!

46. It can wait until tomorrow.

Cuddy woke up bleary-eyed and disorientated, aware that something had stirred her from her sleep. It took her a few seconds to realise it was the slow and steady pounding against her front door. With a sigh, she pushed the covers away from her and slipped on her robe.

Unsurprisingly, she found an exhausted-looking House standing on her porch. He was leaning heavily on his cane, his hair sticking out every which way, and his face seemed to have more wrinkles than she'd ever seen.

"Hi," he saluted her, grabbing the door jamb before he lost his balance. It was then that the stench of whiskey emanating from him reached her nostrils.

A drunk, exhausted-looking House.

She sighed.

"You better come in."

She tried to steer him towards the kitchen so that she could make him some hot, strong coffee, but he turned towards her living-room instead and collapsed on the couch before she could stop him.

"How did you even get here?" she asked as she turned on the light.

He vaguely gestured towards the street, trying to find the word on the tip of his tongue. "Taxi," he said eventually. He leaned over to try and remove his sneakers, but quickly gave up.

Taking pity on him – but also feeling a pang of tenderness towards this tall, broken man – she kneeled in front of him and undid his laces. House watched her quietly, then let out a particularly pained sigh. Looking up, she realised that his eyes were wet with fresh tears.

"Did everything I could."

Given his state, she could not be mistaken about what he meant.

She looked away, tried to ignore the tightness in her throat and removed his sneakers, before sitting beside him to help him out of his leather jacket. He somewhat helped her out and tried to remove his right arm from his sleeve, but he didn't budge when she tugged on the left side of his jacket.

"House."

His reaction to his name was quite the opposite of what she expected; instead of leaning away from the back of the couch, he wrapped his arm around her waist and let his head drop onto her lap.

"I never meant to hurt her," he whispered, a sob catching in his throat.

"I know."

Had the mood been any lighter, she would have expected some comment about how his head was on her vagina, or something along those lines.

"He left. I have to see him, tell him –"

He tightened his grip around her body, holding onto her with both arms, and burying his face in her thighs as a sob escaped from his lips and his tears poured down his cheeks.

"Shh," she whispered as she caressed his head. "It can wait until tomorrow." Though technically it was tomorrow, she thought.

She just wanted him to have some respite. Between the bus accident, his skull fracture, the deep-brain simulation, Amber dying, Wilson not talking to him, Wilson leaving the hospital… He had a lot on his plate.

If he could find said respite with her, so be it.

She curled herself around him, running her hand through his hair softly until he fell asleep.