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Dr. House, head-over-heels in love. It was almost too insane to contemplate, but here was the proof right here in the flesh. The thought almost made Cuddy giggle and she bit her lip to hold it back.
To say House is a little rough around the edges is like saying Kansas gets a few tornadoes every spring. The man has an infinite number of quirks and layers to his personality; Cuddy was sure there weren't enough years in her lifetime to find even half of them. She suspected that if House had to do it all over again, he wouldn't change his feelings towards people in general. Everybody lies, even him, even her. Maybe that is more true than she thinks. But she knows, doesn't think, that even House has his wants and needs and desires like every other human being. The need to be alone finally lost its appeal, if it ever really had any. Not that he was broadcasting that nugget of information for everyone in New Jersey to hear. If anyone else could see him now, with the look of pure love and adoration has he pulled the Jack Daniels shirt over her head, they would be convinced they had the wrong person.
Who is this man, the one who pulls her into sweet, deep, astonishing kisses that leave them both gasping for air. Who is the man whose calloused hands gently explore every inch of her body, making her shiver as if a snowstorm was swirling around the room, even though he knew it all by heart. The man who laughed when one of her curls comes loose and tickled his nose, that can't be Gregory House. Oh, but it is. This was what House could be if someone took the time and didn't mind the scratches to look and feel beyond the prickly surface. Cuddy could live with the scratches. They would heal. She found what she wanted and House was more than willing to give all she could handle.
Most people probably wouldn't believe it. To hell with them and everyone else.
They tangled in each other's limbs, scratched each other's skin, moaned each other's names in breathless gasps between drizzling kisses. The rest of the world was left behind, the only things she was concious of in the whirlwind of her senses were the sweat and heat and the beard scraping her neck and someone calling her name and realizing it was the man with his long arms wrapped around her back. The man she loved more than anything. The man who drove her crazy, made her scream, cry, laugh, smile. The man who loved her. The man she wanted to spend the rest of forever with.
The storm still wanted to let the world know it was still there as it slapped more rain against the building. A dark grey murkiness hung around the bedroom, but that had no effect on Cuddy's grand mood. This day had been exactly what they both needed; a day away from the rest of universe, inhabiting one of their own. Away from the pressures, disappointments, and anxieties of the world outside of 221B. She knew it would be a long time before they could do something like this again, a pity. It would be worth the wait. She would make damn sure of that.
House was stretched out the length of the bed, dozing his way through an after-sex catnap. He was on his left side, facing her, long lashes resting against his cheeks. The scar was well hidden under the now-rumpled and twisted burgundy sheets. So be it. This day was about them, not scars that are all too real or just exist in the mind. Regardless, the scars would still be there tomorrow so they could wait until then.
With the lousy weather and waning afternoon came a drop in temperature, sending gooseflesh out in full force. She carefully slid out of bed and gave silent thanks that the murky light was enough to let her navigate around the bed without crashing into it. After her favorite shirt was back on, she dug for a pair of sweatpants and found some with a drawstring waist. They were still about a dozen sizes too big and nine inches too long, but with a little rolling at the ankles and tightening of the drawstring, they were nice and loose and comfortable.
"I should have you arrested for stealing, boss."
Cuddy's head jerked up as House switched on the bedside lamp and reached for his pills.
"I'm not stealing, I'm just borrowing." She padded over and settled at the edge of the bed.
"Hmph," he smirked, dry-swallowed one of the white tablets, and tried to rub away the lingering sleepiness from his eyes. "That's what they all say. Next you'll be trying to convince me that you were framed by The Man."
"I'm not being framed and I'm not guilty of anything. If you're sweatpants aren't in the hamper tomorrow I'll buy you a dozen new pairs."
"I'm holding you to that."
"I know you are. That's why your sweatpants will be in the hamper tomorrow." The pill bottle caught her attention. A touch of concern clouded over her eyes and spilled out into her voice. "Is your leg okay?"
"It's fine, just bitching a little since it's had more, um...exercise over the last several hours than it's had all year."
"Are you sure? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"Absolutely, positively not. Even if I was lying screaming bloody murder, it would have been worth every second. I'm fine and dandy, Lisa, except for the claw marks all over my back."
"Just marking my territory," she replied with a smirk of her own. The clouds retreated from eyes, letting the full blue out once again.
"People will look at them and think I wrestled with a mountain lion. They'll be whispering behind my back about what a weirdo I am. Thanks a lot."
"You're quite welcome. The day you really, truly care about what other people think is the day–"
"Is the day I buy penny loafers and a mini-van." House laughed and glanced at the alarm clock. "Still a little early for dinner, and if you don't mind I'd like to save Round Three until after dessert."
"Yes, both of us could use a break."
"Wanna play some checkers, boss?"
"Would you play me some requests on the piano first?"
"Toss me over a nice clean shirt and some sweatpants and I'll think about it."
