Floating

Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter, and the encouragement. I did want to explore what I think is an underlying mutual affection that House and Cuddy have for one another. Hope you enjoy. Keep the feedback coming!

House broke away first. He was beyond aroused, but it had to end. For tonight, at least. "Cuddy." He looked into her questioning eyes. Pleading for understanding. He didn't want to have to express it in words.

Cuddy cleared her throat, pulling out of the embrace, embarrassed. She turned away towards his front door. "Coffee. You're not leaving until you've finished it. And you haven't even taken a sip. It's 10 bucks a pound. Think of all those starving…" She smiled, the tension momentarily broken. "Don't go. Not yet."

"House, I don't know what I was thinking. I'm…"

"Takes two."

"I really should go home."

"What would you have thought tomorrow morning, if we had…?" His hand motions were amusing. She felt calmed by the fact that he seemed equally flustered by what had happened. "You're way past politely pickled. I can't take advantage of your condition. Your hormones are in overdrive…" Honesty time. "Besides, I don't think I'm ready for…I mean…physically…I'm just not sure. Even if this was right for tonight."

Oh shit. What had she been thinking? Of course. She settled into one end of the sofa. It would be so easy, she thought, to stay. Here. With him tonight. Cuddy observed him as he picked up his mug and sat at the other end. He moved with a grace that should be impossible for such a tall man with a disabled leg. There was more gray in his hair than there was a year ago, she thought. It made his eyes even bluer, if possible. Eyes that were glacial when he was angry or upset. Nearly turquoise when he wore that sky blue shirt; and cobalt in the dim light of his apartment. He seemed more gaunt these days as well. Well, a shooting will do that you, won't it Lisa? Her eyes were closing involuntarily as she mused about him in silence. The coffee was decidedly NOT working.

"What sort of coffee is this, House? Sleepy time? Or did you put knock out drops in it?"

"Yeah, well I figured it was one way to keep you here. Kidnap you, lock you in the cellar until you spring me from clinic duty forever. Neat plan, huh?

"Seriously. I'm falling asleep here."

"You are a cheap date, aren't you."

"Hey, it's three a.m., and I worked all day. And schmoozed all evening. While you were comfortably snoozing in your office."

"Stay. You can give me a lift to the office. My bike…"

"Oh great, and you'd love it, wouldn't you, when we walk in together. The entire university will be abuzz, let alone the hospital. Especially when I walk in dressed like this."

"Oh, my bet is that you have a neatly packed bag in the trunk with a fresh suit, clean underwear and a makeup kit. If you want, you can drop me off a block from the hospital. I can walk the rest of the way." He was serious. And being gallant again. "You can have my bed or sleep here in Wilson's old bed." She smiled as he grandly gestured to the sofa.

"The sofa is fine," she finally said, acquiescing. House disappeared, only to re-emerge with a down pillow and comforter. And a tee-shirt.

"And this is my favorite tee-shirt, so I hope you don't slobber in your sleep." Cuddy rose to take the items from House. They stood facing each other, the silence awkward. "And Cuddy, if you still want my…help, in whatever form of…donation, I'm OK with that."

"You know it's more complicated if…"

"I know. That's why I'm leaving the delivery method up to you." She approached him. She was so sleepy. She slipped her arms around his waist, not having the energy to reach higher. It was a platonic embrace as she rested her head on his chest. His arms went around her shoulders, keeping her there, if only for a few moments more. He let her go suddenly. "You need to sleep, Cuddy. Hospital to run tomorrow. Lots of sick people to fix."

She let him see her smile, her face streaked with tears. "G'night, House."

Morning came too early as Cuddy's phone alarm rang promptly at 7:00. She had slept surprisingly well, only mildly surprised to find herself on House's sofa. She quietly retrieved her bag from the trunk of the Lexus.

She knew that House was a light sleeper, at least he was according to Wilson. House's bedroom door was ajar. She just wanted to check on him. Make certain that he was OK, she told herself.

He was sprawled across the huge antique sleigh bed. She wondered how much of the furniture were remnants of his time with Stacy. She didn't think that the intricate Victorian wrought ironwork was House's style, but then, so much about him was a surprise, who knew? She spotted the five string banjo sitting next to his bed. She wondered about that Mozart lie. And the exact number of musical instruments House knew how to play.

He seemed to be pretty peacefully sleeping. House's right hand lay protectively across his thigh. He had been through too much, she reasoned. She said a quick prayer that the freedom and peace granted by their ketamine gamble would continue to help House heal in body and in spirit.

By the time she had finished showering and dressing, House had woken and was sitting on the side of his bed. His door was open. "Oh good. I was just going to wake you."

House nodded. "Are you OK?"

"Just a little stiff." He was massaging his leg.

"Any pain?"

"My stitches are killing me. Gotta do something about his technique."

"Yeah, well remember it was a re-do. You're not rubbing your abdomen. You're rubbing your leg. Is it OK?"

"Reflex." Yeah. Right. He'd never admit he needed it. She quickly scanned the room, spotting his cane hanging on the door knob to his closet. She grabbed it, handing it to him before he had a chance to object.

"Do you need…?" What? He was weaned off the Vicodin. She returned to the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of Advil and filled a glass with water. She shook out four liquid-gels. "Is this the first time you're experiencing pain since the treatment?" House nodded.

"It's not bad. I think maybe I overdid it yesterday. Maybe the post-surgery morphine I've been on is finally out of my system and this is my new normal. It's not bad," he repeated. He swallowed the pills, washing them down with the water.

Cuddy didn't want to ask for a numeric level. She didn't want him thinking too hard about it. "It's only a two…two-plus. It's OK. The Advil should kick in in a couple of minutes." He stood carefully, testing. He leaned on the cane, though not too heavily. It seemed to provide the needed support. His gait was good. Cuddy blew out a breath. Crisis over.

She waited as House showered and dressed, putting up a fresh pot of coffee. Cuddy found herself once again wandering House's living room, amused at the collection of trinkets, most of them antiques.

"Hey Cuddy!" House called from his bedroom. "Can you come by every morning and make coffee? If you do, I'll promise not to tell the entire hospital staff that you spent the night with your head on my pillow." Right. That was the House she knew. She took comfort in the fact that some things did not change.