Hang(over) II

By Jules

(2/5)

A/N: So funny side note story about my reaction to the finale. My girlfriends and I get together on Monday's and cook and watch House. So after the big "shocker" ending, 7 of us sat there STUPEFIED for a solid 5 minutes without saying a word. It didn't matter that half of them called the hallucination 4 months ago (I was in staunch denial, I'll admit it)—we were just blown away.

That said, I'll confess. I think TPTB went in the right direction. Anyway, enjoy the next chapter. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated. :)

Part 2

House's chest was heavy and he couldn't breathe. For a moment, he thought this was the beginning of death. He had had many of those moments in the hospital when he didn't believe he could go on anymore, but he would imagine her face, and he knew he couldn't leave her behind.

His imagination was vivid. He didn't know if it was the hallucinations coming back in a crueler form, so he chose not to trust anything.

So he went through hell for her knowing they were impossible. He hoped only to see her again. That would be enough.

However, when he opened his eyes, she was there, fast asleep on him.

It…was strange. Different.

It was…nice.

He adjusted them slowly, as to not wake her. He couldn't remember the last time he had been able to get this close to her with the luxury of examination. Cuddy had an imperfect face, which made her all the more beautiful to him. Soft shadows were cast under her eyes, and her hand held his t-shirt possessively.

He wondered if she had been crying.

He wondered how she got here. And why.

For months she had been distant. The tension was still there. Hell, the tension had always been there, but she had put a cool arm's length between them after he had screwed everything up with some inappropriate PDA.

He had thought he didn't want a relationship. But the more distance she created, the closer he wanted to be.

Tentatively, he caressed her cheek, exploring his new proximity to her. His hand traveled down the side of her ribcage, and he couldn't help but apply pressure, allowing himself the pleasure of feeling her. His body was flush against hers, molding to her every curve. Her warmth and breath radiated against his skin.

He had never been more turned on in his life.

Suddenly, her eyes flew open.

Her eyes were bright, vibrant, and filled with something he didn't understand.

"Do you—?" She started, her eyes searching his hopefully.

He didn't know what was going on with her, but her face, eyes, the way she was looking at him…He couldn't take it. He wanted her in a way that was primal and necessary.

It happened fast and rough, and they didn't kiss as he pulled her sweatpants down with a hard jerk or when she yanked at his zipper until he was hard and out. They didn't take the time to undress or talk or really think about what they were doing. In a second, he was inside of her deep and fucking her hard, so hard, and it was almost worth it until she began to cry.

"I can't do this." She pushed against his chest, separating herself from him. Devastated. "I'm sorry."

House followed her up, his head exploding. "Cuddy. What the hell is going on?"

"I just wanted….But you're…You're not—" She paced back and forth, unable to control her tears.

"Good enough." The words stung his lips, bitter and true. "I know."

Cuddy stopped pacing and stared at his slumped shoulders and defeated form. "House, no—"

"Cuddy, I get it. A pity fuck is still a fuck," he said sardonically. He limped closer to her, pain etching his face. He shrugged and said quietly, "I would never turn you down."

"No, House. I just want you to remember," she pleaded, almost touching his face but her hand froze, dangling mid air between them.

"I remember enough. I should go." House went for the door, forgetting his suitcase behind. "This was a shitty idea. Guilt and recovery never go hand in hand."

She followed him to the door and slammed her hand on it before he could open it.

"Please. Stay."

He exhaled and kept his eyes on the door. "Why?"

She shrugged, feeling weak and helpless. "Because you want to."

His jaw tightened. "Not good enough."

"Because I want you to." He finally looked at her. He had never seen her like this. The closest he could remember was when she lost Joy. This was different. This wasn't about losing a baby.

This was about him.

"Only if you stop lying to me."

Cuddy scoffed. Somehow between keeping her promise to him and their unresolved feelings, she'd forgotten her resolve to stay away from him. "You're right. This is a shitty idea."

"Something's happening." House took her hand, unsure what to do next. Romantic gestures weren't his strong suit. "Something's happened."

Cuddy sighed, self-loathing filling her. "You're recovering, and I'm getting in the way. That's what's happening."

He shook his head perceptively. "You're freaking out."

That set her off. "Yes! You were hallucinating for weeks and you almost killed yourself. I couldn't help you. I—"

"Who took me to the hospital?"

She looked away from him. "House, that's not the—"

"Who?" He made her look at him again.

"Wilson. And me," she admitted quietly.

House nodded. "Then you helped me."

Cuddy smirked self-consciously and lowered her eyes. "Jumping you twelve hours after your release isn't. There's something wrong with me."

House stepped closer to her and whispered in her ear, "Then I hope it's a permanent condition."

She shook her head, eyes sad. "Nothing's permanent, House." He let go of her hand, and he watched her flee to the back of the house.