I settled back onto the sofa to watch Forensic Files, feeling full and tired, and Greg flopped down next to me. I leaned into him and he pulled the blanket over us. All I wanted was some evening television. It didn't even have to be entertaining. Reruns that had been on a million times before would be just fine with me. Sometimes it wasn't worth the energy to be picky. The next I knew it was after midnight and Greg was shaking me awake. "C'mon, Sleeping Beauty," he said with faint amusement. "It's too cold to sleep out here."
"Why didn't you wake me up sooner so I could sleep in the bed?" I grumbled.
"You looked too darned cute to wake up, you big ole puppy dog."
"Is that your real reason?"
"No. Now let's say we go to bed and argue about it later."
"'Kay," I muttered, and stumbled to the bathroom. Greg limped to the bedroom without another word. Nothing like good sex followed by a good meal to make a man hit the hay early, I suppose. Hopefully it would mellow him out for a day or two and both of us could get caught up on our sleep.
I brushed my teeth and staggered to bed, a bit too tired to be proud of myself for not smacking my toe against the bed frame. Good grief, it had been a really long day. The sheets had barely settled when I felt his stubbly chin on my shoulder and his arms pull me closer. We were alone, and it was on his terms. Not that I was complaining. I enjoyed the fact that he would let his guard down when we were alone. Any other time he wouldn't be caught dead getting this snuggly with someone, unless it was to shock some unsuspecting fool who had made the mistake of staring at us for a little too long.
"Am I your pillow now?" I asked.
"If you want to be," he replied. "I'm not going to stop you."
"What do you want me to be?"
"Just be here for me, like you said you were going to be," he answered, as sincere as I'd ever heard him. "That's all I want right now."
"I'm here, Greg. I shouldn't have stayed away so long."
"You got that right. I shouldn't have either."
"What are you going to want later?"
"More pancakes. You talk too much, Jimmy. Just be quiet and go to sleep."
"I will if you will." I challenged.
And he did. He shut up and went to sleep. So did I, wondering how long my ties were going to last.
Cuddy stared at my neck the way someone stares at twisted remains of a train crash, and then turned to Greg, giving him one of those Did you really have to? looks. He just grinned, cocked his head at her, and asked, "What? Are you jealous?"
"Not really," she responded, trying to make her voice sound as flat and bored as possible. She almost succeeded.
"Liar, liar, bra on fire," he chided with immense delight.
Cuddy folded her arms. "You're grade-school level wit isn't going to win you any points from me, Dr. House."
"I've got news for you, boss, it isn't supposed to. By the way, if you're interested in having a hickey of your very own, all you have to do is ask," he said, and I had the sinking feeling that he meant every word of it.
"I'll remember that, and spend the next six months trying to forget it."
"Damn right you'll never forget it, boss."
She did a pretty good job of ignoring him and turned back to me. "Would you cover that up, please?"
"Yes, Dr. Cuddy," I said stoically. There weren't any big band-aids in the apartment, so I had to put it off until arriving at the hospital. It might be a lousy reason, and I should remember to bring some king-sized band-aids home, but it was the only reason I had at the moment. Yes, I had an enormous hickey on my neck. So sue me. I dare you. Thankfully, Cuddy didn't demand any kind of explanation. I'd like to think it was because she knew I hardly asked for it, not because she wouldn't believe any excuse I had to give.
Then something occurred to me as I watched her walk to her office, her heels clicking on the freshly waxed floor–I didn't feel a shred of shame. While I did believe that my patients didn't really have to look at the huge purple blob on my neck, I didn't really care if the rest of the world stared at it. Well, I was lying. Maybe a little. But not that much.
What the hell was happening to me? Should I really be that concerned?
Should I be concerned at all?
No, I shouldn't.
I smiled to myself and followed Greg into the elevator.