![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
damelolaTitle: There Will Be No Divorce Chapter 13/15
Author: Lola Lauriestein
Rating: PG 13 this chapter, overall up to NC17
Pairing: House/Cuddy
Spoilers: Everything up to Wilson's Heart, we're going to have to ignore s5 though, sorry!
Disclaimer: not-not-mine, House et al belong to David Shore, Fox etc. The song lyrics of the Mountain Goats belong to them, and if I could write like John Darnielle, I'd die happy.
Summary: The sequel to ‘No Children’, which you can read in its entirety here. How will House and Cuddy cope with pregnancy, therapy and the world getting in their way? Cuddy has had a termination and is dealing with the aftermath, House is trying to find his way of coping.
Beta by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lucyvanflick , who has cut away the weeds to expose the flowers here. She's the guiding light of this entire series, and I love her for it!
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12
“There is a shortage in the blood supply
But there is no shortage of blood
The way I feel about you baby
Can’t explain it,
You got the best of my love.”
“International Small Arms Traffic Blues”, The Mountain Goats
House stood helplessly in the kitchen doorway, the pots and utensils he’d owned for almost 15 years suddenly foreign to him. Cuddy had shuffled off his bedroom without protest, the hems of her oversized sweatpants beating out a rough tattoo that marked her slow progress.
Reluctantly. he made his way to the fridge and sniffed cautiously at the milk. Surprisingly, it was still fresh, and so he splashed some carelessly into the nearest clean mug. With a heavy heart, he put the drink in the microwave to heat and reached for the makeshift first aid box he now kept stashed behind the cereal boxes.
Now done, he made his own journey to the sanctuary of his bedroom, hoping it was as comforting to Cuddy as it usually was for him. He entered the semi-dark room to see her slumped listlessly near the bottom of his mattress, her posture somewhere between sitting and lying down, but neither one or the other. She really was in a bad way, though that was to be expected.
Yeah, he thought to himself, was she really going to be any other way?
Dealing with situations like this made him feel the familiar panic of rising in his throat. These feelings of inadequacy when it came to emotions left him feeling more crippled than his leg ever had.
With nothing more eloquent than a grunt, he announced his presence and shoved the hot mug in her general direction. She showed no reaction, except for a slight wince when she touched the hot surface.
Fumbling in his pocket, he offered her two small white pills and she took them without a second glance.
Reality kicked in eventually, and she lifted her head to look at him with those eyes that broke his heart with every blink. Seeing her like this was torture.
“These aren’t Vicodin?”
It seemed like a question, but her voice was almost entirely flat.
“No, but they’ll do the trick. I garnished your drink as well, so you’ll be sleeping like a… Well, you’ll be out like a light soon enough.”
Nice slip of the tongue, asshole.
Thankfully, she seemed too out of it to notice.
With a shrug, she accepted his explanation. Frowning at the nuclear temperature of the milk he’d given her, Cuddy blew half-heartedly to cool it. After a long 30 seconds or so, she knocked the pills back, washing them down with a brave gulp of the hot liquid.
When she’d drained the mug of its contents, House took it from her and shoved it carelessly on his already crowded nightstand. At a loss for anything vaguely reassuring to say, he placed a firm hand on Cuddy’s shoulder which she took as permission to lie down. He yanked at the sheets, entangling her as much as covering her. She batted his meddling hands away and made a cocoon for herself, safe and secure once more on “her” side of the bed.
“I’m gonna take a shower. Need anything?”
She grunted softly in reply, sleep already reaching across the waking barriers to claim her. He clicked the lamp off and made slow, aching progress to the bathroom, his overworked muscles already cramping.
He spent far longer than usual under the pounding spray, letting the force and heat soothe his broken body.
The moisture on his face could only be from the shower, because damn it, he wasn’t going to cry about all this shit twice.
When he finally emerged from the bathroom, he was dressed in his last clean pair of pajama bottoms. The steam had left his skin clammy even after scrubbing with the towel. He did feel better though, with previously complaining body parts now calming down to something like their usual whimpers of pain.
The plan was simple: get a blanket and crash out on the sofa. Of course, he had to check on Cuddy first, make sure the noise from the bathroom hadn’t disturbed her. So he crept into the bedroom as quietly as he could, forsaking his cane for extra discretion.
When he sat next to her on the bed, it was simply to make sure that she was breathing properly. He didn’t want to switch on the light and risk her wrath if she wasn’t fully asleep yet. The nights they’d spent together—so many of them punctuated by his bouts of insomnia—meant that he knew the difference in the way she breathed while sleeping.
He hadn’t expected the wave of exhaustion that rolled up and smacked him in the face. Suddenly his limbs felt like lead and all he could think about was slipping under the covers and having a warm body there with him again.
In the face of that kind of temptation, he was powerless to resist.
The limited dose of Vicodin he’d taken in the bathroom was beginning to take effect. The arm that snaked out to pull Cuddy close to him was guided by pure reflex, and he’d surrendered to sleep before he could do anything about it.
Typically, his brain refused to get him anything like the full eight hours. Just before dawn he rolled over for the first of his daily dose and dry-swallowed before resuming his position spooned behind Cuddy. He saw that she was still lost in the depths of REM sleep when he leaned over her, her eyelids flickering slightly and her breathing deep and regular.
His hand grazed her abdomen through the soft cotton of her t-shirt. It was still distended, a far cry from the rock-hard abs she’d been so careful about before the pregnancy. But the solidity of the baby bump was already beginning to fade. He jumped slightly when she mumbled something in her sleep and squirmed back against him, seeking out the heat and comfort of his body unconsciously.
Before long, the weak sunlight had permeated the curtains and it was enough to rouse Cuddy from slumber. House held his breath as he awaited her realization of the situation, but after a few moments she simply relaxed back into the pillows, her hand seeking out his where it was resting on her hip.
“Morning.”
The hoarseness of his own voice surprised him. It sounded deafening in the stillness of his bedroom.
“Hey. Thanks for letting me stay.”
He shrugged, hoping she would understand the gesture though she couldn’t see it.
Feeling uncomfortable with the sudden return to intimacy, House peeled himself away and crawled out of bed with customary difficulty.
“Cripples get dibs on the bathroom. Then it’s all yours.”
She was looking at him curiously, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips as she took in his shirtless state and messy bedhead. When she nodded, he limped gratefully out of the room.
Morning ablutions taken care of, he decided to run her a bath. Tipping some shower gel in as makeshift bubble bath, he stepped out into the bedroom to grab some clean towels.
It shouldn’t have surprised him that she was gone.
Still hurt like a bitch though.
He made a point of being late to work, and he caught her glare across the main reception desk as he pushed past nurses and patients on his way to the elevator. It was difficult not to stare, not after all these years of doing so as obviously as possible. House was satisfied with the transformation. Gone was the bag lady ensemble, replaced with one of her sterner black suits, loose-fitting to keep her body shape ambiguous. The makeup had been flawless, her hair twisted up perhaps a little too severely. To his practiced eye, none of it did quite enough to conceal the sadness and weariness underneath, but it was enough for the rest of the world.
Maybe now he could stop worrying about her, since she clearly had her defense shields intact once more.
Waiting for the world’s slowest elevator, he risked a glance back over his shoulder and caught her quietly haranguing a nurse who looked flustered to suddenly have an effective boss back. He almost smiled at the sight, but caught himself in time.
House tried his best, but couldn’t manage to avoid her for even one day. It had been stupid to put his latest patient in for open-heart surgery without Cuddy’s consent, and predictably he was paged to her office before the surgeons could even begin washing their hands.
Affecting his most inconvenienced expression, he swept into her office as though nothing had ever happened between them. He accepted his lecture with something approaching good grace and made faces while she called Foreman and told him to start some less invasive procedure.
Watching for signs of cracks in her composure, for once House couldn’t care less about the battle, or solving the puzzle for that matter. He’d be right and the man would live, or he’d be wrong for a while until the right answer showed up.
She hung up the phone and made to dismiss him. That he didn’t feel like accepting.
“You bailed on me this morning. Haven’t done that since we first started sleeping together, back when you were still ashamed of me.”
Cuddy didn’t look impressed by his attempt at light-hearted.
“I had to get ready for work. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m sure you’ll live.”
He turned to leave, but was stopped by a question.
“What did you give me last night? I feel fine this morning, I thought I’d be groggy at least.”
House sighed, answering without turning around.
“Honestly? Some hot milk and an anti-histamine. Nowhere near enough to make you drowsy, but you were far enough gone not to look that closely.”
Without her customary killer heels, he didn’t know she was right behind him until it was too late and she had a firm grip on his elbow. Forced to turn, he stumbled a little to face her.
“You tricked me? I was vulnerable, I was a mess, and you tricked me?”
House tried to keep the anger out of his voice.
“You’d rather I got you hooked on something? Made you think the only way you’d sleep was with a body full of chemicals? I may do that to myself, but give me some credit for not dragging everyone else down with me. Or is this about me making everyone else worse for knowing me? That seems to be your opinion most of the time.”
He watched the rage ebb away from her, making her seem five inches shorter in the process. Her grip on his arm loosened as his words hit home.
“I don’t know, I don’t know what I wanted.”
The anguish in her body language drove him to reach out for her with his free hand. Trying to be careful, he laid the hand on her shoulder and stroked the collarbone gently with his thumb.
“You didn’t want to be alone. It’s hardly deviant behavior. And hey, you got some sleep, which is all that matters.”
She pulled away from the gentle contact, tears threatening to spill over.
“It won’t happen again, I’m sorry.”
He tried in vain to catch her eye.
“I thought we’d established I have no problem with you winding up in my bed?”
She shrugged, looking anywhere but at him, the surface of her desk suddenly engrossing.
“I can’t do this. I can’t go through it again. We tried, maybe too hard, but I can’t set myself up to get hurt anymore.”
The words landed like a kidney punch, explosive and sickening at the same time. There were probably a hundred arguments he could make, turn his persuasive charms on changing her mind.
Instead, he walked out of her office without looking back.
Chapter 14 ==>
----------------
Now playing: Hole - Hit So Hard
via FoxyTunes
----------------
Author: Lola Lauriestein
Rating: PG 13 this chapter, overall up to NC17
Pairing: House/Cuddy
Spoilers: Everything up to Wilson's Heart, we're going to have to ignore s5 though, sorry!
Disclaimer: not-not-mine, House et al belong to David Shore, Fox etc. The song lyrics of the Mountain Goats belong to them, and if I could write like John Darnielle, I'd die happy.
Summary: The sequel to ‘No Children’, which you can read in its entirety here. How will House and Cuddy cope with pregnancy, therapy and the world getting in their way? Cuddy has had a termination and is dealing with the aftermath, House is trying to find his way of coping.
Beta by
lucyvanflick , who has cut away the weeds to expose the flowers here. She's the guiding light of this entire series, and I love her for it!Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12
“There is a shortage in the blood supply
But there is no shortage of blood
The way I feel about you baby
Can’t explain it,
You got the best of my love.”
“International Small Arms Traffic Blues”, The Mountain Goats
House stood helplessly in the kitchen doorway, the pots and utensils he’d owned for almost 15 years suddenly foreign to him. Cuddy had shuffled off his bedroom without protest, the hems of her oversized sweatpants beating out a rough tattoo that marked her slow progress.
Reluctantly. he made his way to the fridge and sniffed cautiously at the milk. Surprisingly, it was still fresh, and so he splashed some carelessly into the nearest clean mug. With a heavy heart, he put the drink in the microwave to heat and reached for the makeshift first aid box he now kept stashed behind the cereal boxes.
Now done, he made his own journey to the sanctuary of his bedroom, hoping it was as comforting to Cuddy as it usually was for him. He entered the semi-dark room to see her slumped listlessly near the bottom of his mattress, her posture somewhere between sitting and lying down, but neither one or the other. She really was in a bad way, though that was to be expected.
Yeah, he thought to himself, was she really going to be any other way?
Dealing with situations like this made him feel the familiar panic of rising in his throat. These feelings of inadequacy when it came to emotions left him feeling more crippled than his leg ever had.
With nothing more eloquent than a grunt, he announced his presence and shoved the hot mug in her general direction. She showed no reaction, except for a slight wince when she touched the hot surface.
Fumbling in his pocket, he offered her two small white pills and she took them without a second glance.
Reality kicked in eventually, and she lifted her head to look at him with those eyes that broke his heart with every blink. Seeing her like this was torture.
“These aren’t Vicodin?”
It seemed like a question, but her voice was almost entirely flat.
“No, but they’ll do the trick. I garnished your drink as well, so you’ll be sleeping like a… Well, you’ll be out like a light soon enough.”
Nice slip of the tongue, asshole.
Thankfully, she seemed too out of it to notice.
With a shrug, she accepted his explanation. Frowning at the nuclear temperature of the milk he’d given her, Cuddy blew half-heartedly to cool it. After a long 30 seconds or so, she knocked the pills back, washing them down with a brave gulp of the hot liquid.
When she’d drained the mug of its contents, House took it from her and shoved it carelessly on his already crowded nightstand. At a loss for anything vaguely reassuring to say, he placed a firm hand on Cuddy’s shoulder which she took as permission to lie down. He yanked at the sheets, entangling her as much as covering her. She batted his meddling hands away and made a cocoon for herself, safe and secure once more on “her” side of the bed.
“I’m gonna take a shower. Need anything?”
She grunted softly in reply, sleep already reaching across the waking barriers to claim her. He clicked the lamp off and made slow, aching progress to the bathroom, his overworked muscles already cramping.
He spent far longer than usual under the pounding spray, letting the force and heat soothe his broken body.
The moisture on his face could only be from the shower, because damn it, he wasn’t going to cry about all this shit twice.
When he finally emerged from the bathroom, he was dressed in his last clean pair of pajama bottoms. The steam had left his skin clammy even after scrubbing with the towel. He did feel better though, with previously complaining body parts now calming down to something like their usual whimpers of pain.
The plan was simple: get a blanket and crash out on the sofa. Of course, he had to check on Cuddy first, make sure the noise from the bathroom hadn’t disturbed her. So he crept into the bedroom as quietly as he could, forsaking his cane for extra discretion.
When he sat next to her on the bed, it was simply to make sure that she was breathing properly. He didn’t want to switch on the light and risk her wrath if she wasn’t fully asleep yet. The nights they’d spent together—so many of them punctuated by his bouts of insomnia—meant that he knew the difference in the way she breathed while sleeping.
He hadn’t expected the wave of exhaustion that rolled up and smacked him in the face. Suddenly his limbs felt like lead and all he could think about was slipping under the covers and having a warm body there with him again.
In the face of that kind of temptation, he was powerless to resist.
The limited dose of Vicodin he’d taken in the bathroom was beginning to take effect. The arm that snaked out to pull Cuddy close to him was guided by pure reflex, and he’d surrendered to sleep before he could do anything about it.
Typically, his brain refused to get him anything like the full eight hours. Just before dawn he rolled over for the first of his daily dose and dry-swallowed before resuming his position spooned behind Cuddy. He saw that she was still lost in the depths of REM sleep when he leaned over her, her eyelids flickering slightly and her breathing deep and regular.
His hand grazed her abdomen through the soft cotton of her t-shirt. It was still distended, a far cry from the rock-hard abs she’d been so careful about before the pregnancy. But the solidity of the baby bump was already beginning to fade. He jumped slightly when she mumbled something in her sleep and squirmed back against him, seeking out the heat and comfort of his body unconsciously.
Before long, the weak sunlight had permeated the curtains and it was enough to rouse Cuddy from slumber. House held his breath as he awaited her realization of the situation, but after a few moments she simply relaxed back into the pillows, her hand seeking out his where it was resting on her hip.
“Morning.”
The hoarseness of his own voice surprised him. It sounded deafening in the stillness of his bedroom.
“Hey. Thanks for letting me stay.”
He shrugged, hoping she would understand the gesture though she couldn’t see it.
Feeling uncomfortable with the sudden return to intimacy, House peeled himself away and crawled out of bed with customary difficulty.
“Cripples get dibs on the bathroom. Then it’s all yours.”
She was looking at him curiously, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips as she took in his shirtless state and messy bedhead. When she nodded, he limped gratefully out of the room.
Morning ablutions taken care of, he decided to run her a bath. Tipping some shower gel in as makeshift bubble bath, he stepped out into the bedroom to grab some clean towels.
It shouldn’t have surprised him that she was gone.
Still hurt like a bitch though.
He made a point of being late to work, and he caught her glare across the main reception desk as he pushed past nurses and patients on his way to the elevator. It was difficult not to stare, not after all these years of doing so as obviously as possible. House was satisfied with the transformation. Gone was the bag lady ensemble, replaced with one of her sterner black suits, loose-fitting to keep her body shape ambiguous. The makeup had been flawless, her hair twisted up perhaps a little too severely. To his practiced eye, none of it did quite enough to conceal the sadness and weariness underneath, but it was enough for the rest of the world.
Maybe now he could stop worrying about her, since she clearly had her defense shields intact once more.
Waiting for the world’s slowest elevator, he risked a glance back over his shoulder and caught her quietly haranguing a nurse who looked flustered to suddenly have an effective boss back. He almost smiled at the sight, but caught himself in time.
House tried his best, but couldn’t manage to avoid her for even one day. It had been stupid to put his latest patient in for open-heart surgery without Cuddy’s consent, and predictably he was paged to her office before the surgeons could even begin washing their hands.
Affecting his most inconvenienced expression, he swept into her office as though nothing had ever happened between them. He accepted his lecture with something approaching good grace and made faces while she called Foreman and told him to start some less invasive procedure.
Watching for signs of cracks in her composure, for once House couldn’t care less about the battle, or solving the puzzle for that matter. He’d be right and the man would live, or he’d be wrong for a while until the right answer showed up.
She hung up the phone and made to dismiss him. That he didn’t feel like accepting.
“You bailed on me this morning. Haven’t done that since we first started sleeping together, back when you were still ashamed of me.”
Cuddy didn’t look impressed by his attempt at light-hearted.
“I had to get ready for work. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m sure you’ll live.”
He turned to leave, but was stopped by a question.
“What did you give me last night? I feel fine this morning, I thought I’d be groggy at least.”
House sighed, answering without turning around.
“Honestly? Some hot milk and an anti-histamine. Nowhere near enough to make you drowsy, but you were far enough gone not to look that closely.”
Without her customary killer heels, he didn’t know she was right behind him until it was too late and she had a firm grip on his elbow. Forced to turn, he stumbled a little to face her.
“You tricked me? I was vulnerable, I was a mess, and you tricked me?”
House tried to keep the anger out of his voice.
“You’d rather I got you hooked on something? Made you think the only way you’d sleep was with a body full of chemicals? I may do that to myself, but give me some credit for not dragging everyone else down with me. Or is this about me making everyone else worse for knowing me? That seems to be your opinion most of the time.”
He watched the rage ebb away from her, making her seem five inches shorter in the process. Her grip on his arm loosened as his words hit home.
“I don’t know, I don’t know what I wanted.”
The anguish in her body language drove him to reach out for her with his free hand. Trying to be careful, he laid the hand on her shoulder and stroked the collarbone gently with his thumb.
“You didn’t want to be alone. It’s hardly deviant behavior. And hey, you got some sleep, which is all that matters.”
She pulled away from the gentle contact, tears threatening to spill over.
“It won’t happen again, I’m sorry.”
He tried in vain to catch her eye.
“I thought we’d established I have no problem with you winding up in my bed?”
She shrugged, looking anywhere but at him, the surface of her desk suddenly engrossing.
“I can’t do this. I can’t go through it again. We tried, maybe too hard, but I can’t set myself up to get hurt anymore.”
The words landed like a kidney punch, explosive and sickening at the same time. There were probably a hundred arguments he could make, turn his persuasive charms on changing her mind.
Instead, he walked out of her office without looking back.
Chapter 14 ==>
----------------
Now playing: Hole - Hit So Hard
via FoxyTunes
----------------
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2009-05-02 02:31 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-02 08:45 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-03 10:46 am (UTC)and House is just trying to cope and I have to say it's hard to see him trying to find the right thing to do.
no subject
on 2009-05-03 03:35 pm (UTC)