Poison In Our Veins, Epilogue
Title: Poison In Our Veins
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17 for sexual situations
Characters: Cuddy/House, some mentions of Cuddy/Lucas
Author's Notes: This piece is an AU where Cuddy goes ahead and marries Lucas instead of dumping him. This fic also fulfills 50kinkyways prompt 32 Branding.
Previous Chapters: Chapter One
Disclaimer: The show doesn't belong to me.
Summary: Her husband has the matching wedding ring. House has everything else.
He hears the news in casual conversation within what he later figures out to be a matter of days of it happening. Cuddy is divorcing her husband. House waits for Lucas to burst through his office or into his home. He prepares himself for a fight, to be tackled when he isn’t looking, sucker punched, because he hasn’t earned the consideration of a warning. He doesn’t talk to Cuddy about it.
The fight doesn’t happen.
A week later, lunch with Wilson reveals that Lucas has heard about another man. House has no reason to doubt the voracity of this tidbit; anything Wilson is repeating surely comes directly from Cuddy herself. And if that’s the language he’s using - “another man” - then it means Lucas has been spared the full scope of her betrayal. Wilson, on the other hand, clearly suspects, his gaze lingering on House a little too long.
“I wonder who it is. Do you know?” Wilson asks leadingly.
“No idea,” House says, running his french fries through a puddle of ketchup. After he’s had the satisfaction of shoving the greasy food into his mouth, he adds casually, “If I had to guess, I would have thought it was you.”
Wilson doesn’t seem too keen on the idea. “Me?”
“No? I thought you were a fan of extramarital affairs. Or is that only when you’re married?”
Wilson ignores him and returns to the original issue. “How can you not know? I would have thought you’d have had a spy cam implanted in her crotch by now to -”
“Matter of fact, I did. Problem is she masturbated so much to the thought of me that the thing malfunctioned. Sorry. If you want to know who it is, you’ll have to ask her yourself.”
House is careful to lie and to lie well. If Wilson is asking about it, it means that Cuddy has chosen purposely to keep him in the dark. House knows he must follow suit. It’s not his place to reveal the truth. It’s never been his right to make decisions about her marriage, their relationship, or their son. He is sure she has mistaken his respect for her leadership for disinterest. Violating her own moral code by cheating has made her crave approval. For a while now, she has wanted him to legitimize her behavior, even insist that he make the choice for her so that she can be absolved of all responsibility. But he has restrained himself, knowing that taking control would be an easy to create resentment between them.
More resentment anyway. In refusing to push her, he has upset her. She hasn’t said it, but she’s confirmed his suspicions numerous times.
Still, he’s not going to change now. He won’t let Wilson know the truth, won’t give it away. Wilson is suspicious nevertheless.
“You don’t seem interested in figuring out who it is.” There is a hint of accusation in the words.
“That’s because I’m trying to eat my lunch.”
“You’re not -”
“The longer I’m able to avoid thinking about who’s been beating up Cuddy’s vajayjay, the longer I’m able to refrain from vomiting.” Dramatically, he looks at his reuben in disgust. “Shouldn’t have put it like that. You want this?” He gestures to the food. As Wilson shakes his head, House decides that it’s time to end the conversation. “My biopsy should be done by now. Guess you’ll have to find someone else to gossip with.”
He leaves before Wilson can object.
The next week, the hospital learns that Lucas isn’t the baby’s father. As House hears it from secondhand sources, Cuddy had told Lucas privately, but then Lucas had called the hospital and left a harsh message with Cuddy’s assistant. During the conversation, he’d said something about the children. The assistant, not knowing how to react to the phone call, had confided in another nurse about what had been said. There was no containing the rumor after that point.
The week after that, Wilson still suspects. Knowing he’s being watched, House begins a pool in the hospital: who is Cuddy’s baby daddy? The most popular bet is on Chase, who starts strutting around like a peacock, because it’s confirmation that the hospital thinks he’s the hottest employee. Foreman, Taub, and a few others opt for Wilson, and from an outsider’s perspective, he would be a good choice. They’re friends; Wilson’s a whore. Why wouldn’t it be possible? The night janitor who wears his pants backwards is the only one who bets on House.
House bets that Cuddy herself is the father.
It’s never a bad time to bring that rumor back up.
Throughout all of this, he doesn’t see her outside of work. She doesn’t come to him, and he doesn’t go to her. At least for his part, it’s not because he doesn’t want to see her. If anything, it’s odd to be a mere witness to the most important development in his life unfolding. The woman he wants is finally single. His efforts to destroy that marriage have succeeded. People acknowledge that Lucas isn’t the father. And all of it happens with House watching silently.
He doesn’t celebrate, doesn’t go running to her. It takes every ounce of self-control to accomplish the latter. Truthfully, being with her is all he wants, all he has wanted for a very long time. But he will not open himself up to accusations of dancing on her marriage’s grave later. He won’t give her the opportunity to blame him for her choices. Oh, he’s convinced she’ll find one anyway, but he won’t aid her in doing so.
He waits until a month has gone by. The four weeks since Cuddy embraced honesty have been slow, torturously so. In that time, he has wondered how she’s doing, hoped that she’ll be willing to consider having more with him than an affair. He tries hard, in the few work exchanges they have, to not seem desperate for it. He wears no such façade when he goes to her home a month after the truth has come out.
She’s annoyed when she answers the door. Tiredly, she says, “You bet that I was the father.”
“Was I supposed to bet on myself?” He slips into the foyer before she decides she doesn’t want to see him.
“You weren’t supposed to bet at all - or create a paternity pool for that matter.”
“All right. I’ll shut it down.”
Cuddy sighs. “Don’t bother.” She says that, but they both know come Monday, the fun will be over.
With that matter disposed of, the conversation is open for a new topic. He doesn’t ask her how she is, although this would be the point where a normal person would bring that up. For him, the answer to that question is clear. She looks tired, overworked, thin. She’s been suffering.
What’s less obvious is whether she feels the price she’s paying now is worth it. Afraid she doesn’t, he addresses that matter as obliquely as he knows how. “Can I kiss you?”
It sounds far more direct than he wanted.
She’s amused. “You’re asking for permission now?”
“I just got spanked. Of course, I am.”
“Okay.”
House intends to be gentle with her. If they have sex tonight, it will be all about her. Cuddy will see how beautiful and amazing she is. Whatever Lucas has said in anger recently, however she has berated herself, House aims to erase those harsh words with everything he has. Each action he takes must be performed with this end in mind. If he ever wants her to mull over a relationship with him, he has to make her current trouble seem worth it.
Admittedly, there is something strange about his plan, that he is the one who should have it at least. He’s not used to wanting a woman as much as he does Cuddy. He doesn’t seek out relationships, and it’s not as though having an affair with Cuddy, impregnating her, and then watching someone else live the life he wants has been the most satisfying experience for him. He wishes he could see the logical benefit to what he’s doing, but in the end, it doesn’t matter if there is one or not. He wants her, so he will have to do whatever it takes to make that happen.
He reaches out to pull her closer to him. His hand moves along her hipbone before sliding underneath her shirt. That's when he feels her warm skin; she's radiating heat, which gives him pause.
“You feel okay?” he asks concerned. He shifts his focus, running his palm across her forehead to confirm that she’s probably running a fever.
Cuddy looks irritated at having to admit, “Mastitis.”
“You see your -”
“Of course I did. I got antibiotics this morning.”
He nods his head. “Good. Which breast?” He eyes them both, not entirely for medical purposes.
She’s uncomfortable. “Does it matter?”
“You’re sick, so, yeah, it kinda does.”
She frowns and then mutters, “Fine. Since I have no doubt you’ll find out eventually, somehow… the right.”
“Can I see?”
“Why do you need to see it?”
“To make sure you’re okay.”
“Obviously, it’s not, or I wouldn’t be on medication for it.”
He’s not sure why she’s being cagey. It’s not like he hasn’t had some experience with that part of her anatomy. He pushes for more information - but lightly. “You still nursing out of -”
“No.” She must be able to sense the objection he’s going to make, because she holds up a hand to indicate that he needs to be quiet. “It’s not my fault. He won’t nurse on that side at the moment.”
He’s tempted to joke that clearly the baby can’t be his if the boy is refusing to suck on Cuddy’s tits. But all things considered, now’s not the time for that. House doubts it would go over well. Instead he asks, “You’ve been pumping?”
“I was getting ready to do that, Dr. House. Then you showed up.”
He gestures for her to go ahead. “Don’t let me stop you -”
“No. I don’t want to.” As if to explain her bad mood, she adds, her shoulders tensing in unease, “I don’t like this.”
He doesn’t understand what she means. “What’s that?”
“I don’t like you being my doctor. Don’t do that.”
“I’m not being your doctor. I’m just a concerned….” He wants to say boyfriend, but he’s not sure if that would be wanted. “Sex toy or side piece or whatever you want to -”
“Please stop,” she asks, not at all enjoying the nouns he’s chosen. With each one, her face has become increasingly upset. Not annoyed, not offended, but honestly distressed. She doesn’t say anything more, but it’s clear that she doesn’t think of him as a casual fling and hasn’t for quite some time.
What House takes away from this though is that he won’t be able to wait for her to say she wants a relationship with him. She’s hurting and scared, and however much he may have wanted her to have control, he sees now that she isn’t in a position to take it. She won’t. In this moment, what she needs is the security of knowing that he wants her.
He has no qualms about giving her what she needs.
Bowing his head, he kisses her neck, rubs his nose against her soft but warm skin. One of his hands rubs the small of her back. Then he says in a quiet voice, “I want to be your boyfriend. This whole thing is screwed up, I know. But that’s what I want.”
He doesn’t watch her to see her reaction. Her hair would partially block his view in any case, but he closes his eyes anyway as though that will protect him from her rejection. It doesn’t matter. He can feel her nodding her head, and he knows what it means.
She redundantly says after a moment, “I want that too.”
This is probably the second they should hug and kiss and celebrate, but he hasn’t lost sight of the current problem. One of their current problems, he corrects.
“Will you pump a little for me?” he asks gently. As soon as the words are said, he can’t help but add, “This is not the context I would have imagined asking that question in.”
The joke doesn’t seem to reach her. Rather than laugh, she admits, “I don’t want to. It hurts.”
“You’ll feel better once you do it.”
He’s not actually sure whether or not that will be true for her. It must be, or he must say it convincingly enough, because Cuddy finally relents.
Truth be told, the preparation bores him. They have to wash every tiny piece of the manual pump before she can use it. She has to drink some water before they begin. And even when they settle down together on the couch, her body curled up comfortably in his lap, he can’t help but think that this was not how he envisioned spending his Friday night.
On second thought though, this is precisely what he needs. He has had the affair, when it was hot and careless and when it turned cold and planned. He has had her wild and professional. He hasn’t seen this part of her before, not really. Even when she’s been a mother in public, he thinks now that there’s a difference.
She’s more vulnerable at this very second than he has ever seen her before. She proves that when a minute or so later, her milk becomes tinged with blood, and she stops. He can feel her tensing and swallowing hard.
“I can’t do this,” she confesses, her grip tentative and nervous.
He grabs the pump before she has a chance of dropping it. “You’re scared of a little blood?” He doesn’t mean to sound judgmental, but maybe he is.
“When it’s in my milk, yes,” she snaps. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“No, you’re fine.” He attempts to come across as soothing and follows the words up with a kiss to her temple. “Just close your eyes. I’ll take care of it.”
“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this,” she says but closes her eyes and listens to him nonetheless. As he begins to use the pump, he thinks that this is the oddest thing he has ever done with her breasts or anyone’s breasts for that matter and wonders what that says about him.
In an effort to distract her and maybe himself, he asks, “You know why I could?”
“Do I want to know your theory?”
“Not a theory. It’s a fact.”
She sighs. “Fine. Tell me. I’d love to know how it is you’re able to get me to do anything you want, even when it involves me risking everything.” He can practically hear her regretting saying that. It’s visibly upset her.
He blames the outburst at least partially on hormones but knows he bears far more responsibility than anything else.
“Lucas was good for you… in some ways,” he says carefully.
“House -”
“Hear me out.”
“I don’t -”
“He was fun, emotionally available, dedicated to you. I’m sure he was great with Rachel and -”
“I don’t really want to talk about what a great guy he is, so if you could get to the point, I’d -”
“Shh.” With a free hand, he strokes her hair. He kisses her again, her neck, her shoulder, until she’s calmed down a little. “I wasn’t saying he was great - not for you. He didn’t know you.”
She doesn’t respond. Maybe she agrees. Maybe she suspected this all along. He thinks it would be hard not to know that, not after that stunt Lucas pulled with the cell phones that one time Rachel was sick, not after what Cuddy has done for years since then. House doesn’t bring that up.
“He didn’t know how to comfort you. You wouldn’t let him.”
She opens her eyes just long enough to give him a look of disbelief. Then she catches sight of her pinkish milk and turns her face to the side. “That’s not -”
“You are terrified to let anyone see just how dark and screwed up it can get with you.”
She laughs, but there is no joy in it. “Well, everyone knows now, don’t they?”
“No. You and I both know that’s not true. What’s the worst anyone is going to say about you for cheating? That you’re a bitch? An insatiable slut? We both know you’d prefer that than to be weak. You never let him see that, even when you needed him to be there for you. You can’t hide that from me, no matter how much you might want to. And you know it doesn’t scare me. It never will.”
“I know.” She says it so quietly he isn’t even sure she really said it.
“You trust me to comfort you, so you let me do this.” The mood feeling oppressively serious, he says, “And do you and things to your boobs in general.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long time after that. He finishes using the manual pump and dumps the milk without comment from her. He helps her to bed without hearing her complain about how she can change into her pajamas herself. He isn’t expecting otherwise, not tonight.
The last thirty days have been hard for her, to say the least. She’s lost her husband and a world of possibilities that came with him. Now she has House and a fever, and after a long week at work, she’s exhausted, overwhelmed. Things are changing faster than she can keep up with, and if she seems shut down, there’s a good chance that she is and has earned the right to be.
Then, just as she’s about to fall asleep, he says, “I love you.” She quickly echoes the words back, slurring them a little, and he realizes that she’s still here, with him.
Where she’s supposed to be.
The End
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17 for sexual situations
Characters: Cuddy/House, some mentions of Cuddy/Lucas
Author's Notes: This piece is an AU where Cuddy goes ahead and marries Lucas instead of dumping him. This fic also fulfills 50kinkyways prompt 32 Branding.
Previous Chapters: Chapter One
Disclaimer: The show doesn't belong to me.
Summary: Her husband has the matching wedding ring. House has everything else.
He hears the news in casual conversation within what he later figures out to be a matter of days of it happening. Cuddy is divorcing her husband. House waits for Lucas to burst through his office or into his home. He prepares himself for a fight, to be tackled when he isn’t looking, sucker punched, because he hasn’t earned the consideration of a warning. He doesn’t talk to Cuddy about it.
The fight doesn’t happen.
A week later, lunch with Wilson reveals that Lucas has heard about another man. House has no reason to doubt the voracity of this tidbit; anything Wilson is repeating surely comes directly from Cuddy herself. And if that’s the language he’s using - “another man” - then it means Lucas has been spared the full scope of her betrayal. Wilson, on the other hand, clearly suspects, his gaze lingering on House a little too long.
“I wonder who it is. Do you know?” Wilson asks leadingly.
“No idea,” House says, running his french fries through a puddle of ketchup. After he’s had the satisfaction of shoving the greasy food into his mouth, he adds casually, “If I had to guess, I would have thought it was you.”
Wilson doesn’t seem too keen on the idea. “Me?”
“No? I thought you were a fan of extramarital affairs. Or is that only when you’re married?”
Wilson ignores him and returns to the original issue. “How can you not know? I would have thought you’d have had a spy cam implanted in her crotch by now to -”
“Matter of fact, I did. Problem is she masturbated so much to the thought of me that the thing malfunctioned. Sorry. If you want to know who it is, you’ll have to ask her yourself.”
House is careful to lie and to lie well. If Wilson is asking about it, it means that Cuddy has chosen purposely to keep him in the dark. House knows he must follow suit. It’s not his place to reveal the truth. It’s never been his right to make decisions about her marriage, their relationship, or their son. He is sure she has mistaken his respect for her leadership for disinterest. Violating her own moral code by cheating has made her crave approval. For a while now, she has wanted him to legitimize her behavior, even insist that he make the choice for her so that she can be absolved of all responsibility. But he has restrained himself, knowing that taking control would be an easy to create resentment between them.
More resentment anyway. In refusing to push her, he has upset her. She hasn’t said it, but she’s confirmed his suspicions numerous times.
Still, he’s not going to change now. He won’t let Wilson know the truth, won’t give it away. Wilson is suspicious nevertheless.
“You don’t seem interested in figuring out who it is.” There is a hint of accusation in the words.
“That’s because I’m trying to eat my lunch.”
“You’re not -”
“The longer I’m able to avoid thinking about who’s been beating up Cuddy’s vajayjay, the longer I’m able to refrain from vomiting.” Dramatically, he looks at his reuben in disgust. “Shouldn’t have put it like that. You want this?” He gestures to the food. As Wilson shakes his head, House decides that it’s time to end the conversation. “My biopsy should be done by now. Guess you’ll have to find someone else to gossip with.”
He leaves before Wilson can object.
The next week, the hospital learns that Lucas isn’t the baby’s father. As House hears it from secondhand sources, Cuddy had told Lucas privately, but then Lucas had called the hospital and left a harsh message with Cuddy’s assistant. During the conversation, he’d said something about the children. The assistant, not knowing how to react to the phone call, had confided in another nurse about what had been said. There was no containing the rumor after that point.
The week after that, Wilson still suspects. Knowing he’s being watched, House begins a pool in the hospital: who is Cuddy’s baby daddy? The most popular bet is on Chase, who starts strutting around like a peacock, because it’s confirmation that the hospital thinks he’s the hottest employee. Foreman, Taub, and a few others opt for Wilson, and from an outsider’s perspective, he would be a good choice. They’re friends; Wilson’s a whore. Why wouldn’t it be possible? The night janitor who wears his pants backwards is the only one who bets on House.
House bets that Cuddy herself is the father.
It’s never a bad time to bring that rumor back up.
Throughout all of this, he doesn’t see her outside of work. She doesn’t come to him, and he doesn’t go to her. At least for his part, it’s not because he doesn’t want to see her. If anything, it’s odd to be a mere witness to the most important development in his life unfolding. The woman he wants is finally single. His efforts to destroy that marriage have succeeded. People acknowledge that Lucas isn’t the father. And all of it happens with House watching silently.
He doesn’t celebrate, doesn’t go running to her. It takes every ounce of self-control to accomplish the latter. Truthfully, being with her is all he wants, all he has wanted for a very long time. But he will not open himself up to accusations of dancing on her marriage’s grave later. He won’t give her the opportunity to blame him for her choices. Oh, he’s convinced she’ll find one anyway, but he won’t aid her in doing so.
He waits until a month has gone by. The four weeks since Cuddy embraced honesty have been slow, torturously so. In that time, he has wondered how she’s doing, hoped that she’ll be willing to consider having more with him than an affair. He tries hard, in the few work exchanges they have, to not seem desperate for it. He wears no such façade when he goes to her home a month after the truth has come out.
She’s annoyed when she answers the door. Tiredly, she says, “You bet that I was the father.”
“Was I supposed to bet on myself?” He slips into the foyer before she decides she doesn’t want to see him.
“You weren’t supposed to bet at all - or create a paternity pool for that matter.”
“All right. I’ll shut it down.”
Cuddy sighs. “Don’t bother.” She says that, but they both know come Monday, the fun will be over.
With that matter disposed of, the conversation is open for a new topic. He doesn’t ask her how she is, although this would be the point where a normal person would bring that up. For him, the answer to that question is clear. She looks tired, overworked, thin. She’s been suffering.
What’s less obvious is whether she feels the price she’s paying now is worth it. Afraid she doesn’t, he addresses that matter as obliquely as he knows how. “Can I kiss you?”
It sounds far more direct than he wanted.
She’s amused. “You’re asking for permission now?”
“I just got spanked. Of course, I am.”
“Okay.”
House intends to be gentle with her. If they have sex tonight, it will be all about her. Cuddy will see how beautiful and amazing she is. Whatever Lucas has said in anger recently, however she has berated herself, House aims to erase those harsh words with everything he has. Each action he takes must be performed with this end in mind. If he ever wants her to mull over a relationship with him, he has to make her current trouble seem worth it.
Admittedly, there is something strange about his plan, that he is the one who should have it at least. He’s not used to wanting a woman as much as he does Cuddy. He doesn’t seek out relationships, and it’s not as though having an affair with Cuddy, impregnating her, and then watching someone else live the life he wants has been the most satisfying experience for him. He wishes he could see the logical benefit to what he’s doing, but in the end, it doesn’t matter if there is one or not. He wants her, so he will have to do whatever it takes to make that happen.
He reaches out to pull her closer to him. His hand moves along her hipbone before sliding underneath her shirt. That's when he feels her warm skin; she's radiating heat, which gives him pause.
“You feel okay?” he asks concerned. He shifts his focus, running his palm across her forehead to confirm that she’s probably running a fever.
Cuddy looks irritated at having to admit, “Mastitis.”
“You see your -”
“Of course I did. I got antibiotics this morning.”
He nods his head. “Good. Which breast?” He eyes them both, not entirely for medical purposes.
She’s uncomfortable. “Does it matter?”
“You’re sick, so, yeah, it kinda does.”
She frowns and then mutters, “Fine. Since I have no doubt you’ll find out eventually, somehow… the right.”
“Can I see?”
“Why do you need to see it?”
“To make sure you’re okay.”
“Obviously, it’s not, or I wouldn’t be on medication for it.”
He’s not sure why she’s being cagey. It’s not like he hasn’t had some experience with that part of her anatomy. He pushes for more information - but lightly. “You still nursing out of -”
“No.” She must be able to sense the objection he’s going to make, because she holds up a hand to indicate that he needs to be quiet. “It’s not my fault. He won’t nurse on that side at the moment.”
He’s tempted to joke that clearly the baby can’t be his if the boy is refusing to suck on Cuddy’s tits. But all things considered, now’s not the time for that. House doubts it would go over well. Instead he asks, “You’ve been pumping?”
“I was getting ready to do that, Dr. House. Then you showed up.”
He gestures for her to go ahead. “Don’t let me stop you -”
“No. I don’t want to.” As if to explain her bad mood, she adds, her shoulders tensing in unease, “I don’t like this.”
He doesn’t understand what she means. “What’s that?”
“I don’t like you being my doctor. Don’t do that.”
“I’m not being your doctor. I’m just a concerned….” He wants to say boyfriend, but he’s not sure if that would be wanted. “Sex toy or side piece or whatever you want to -”
“Please stop,” she asks, not at all enjoying the nouns he’s chosen. With each one, her face has become increasingly upset. Not annoyed, not offended, but honestly distressed. She doesn’t say anything more, but it’s clear that she doesn’t think of him as a casual fling and hasn’t for quite some time.
What House takes away from this though is that he won’t be able to wait for her to say she wants a relationship with him. She’s hurting and scared, and however much he may have wanted her to have control, he sees now that she isn’t in a position to take it. She won’t. In this moment, what she needs is the security of knowing that he wants her.
He has no qualms about giving her what she needs.
Bowing his head, he kisses her neck, rubs his nose against her soft but warm skin. One of his hands rubs the small of her back. Then he says in a quiet voice, “I want to be your boyfriend. This whole thing is screwed up, I know. But that’s what I want.”
He doesn’t watch her to see her reaction. Her hair would partially block his view in any case, but he closes his eyes anyway as though that will protect him from her rejection. It doesn’t matter. He can feel her nodding her head, and he knows what it means.
She redundantly says after a moment, “I want that too.”
This is probably the second they should hug and kiss and celebrate, but he hasn’t lost sight of the current problem. One of their current problems, he corrects.
“Will you pump a little for me?” he asks gently. As soon as the words are said, he can’t help but add, “This is not the context I would have imagined asking that question in.”
The joke doesn’t seem to reach her. Rather than laugh, she admits, “I don’t want to. It hurts.”
“You’ll feel better once you do it.”
He’s not actually sure whether or not that will be true for her. It must be, or he must say it convincingly enough, because Cuddy finally relents.
Truth be told, the preparation bores him. They have to wash every tiny piece of the manual pump before she can use it. She has to drink some water before they begin. And even when they settle down together on the couch, her body curled up comfortably in his lap, he can’t help but think that this was not how he envisioned spending his Friday night.
On second thought though, this is precisely what he needs. He has had the affair, when it was hot and careless and when it turned cold and planned. He has had her wild and professional. He hasn’t seen this part of her before, not really. Even when she’s been a mother in public, he thinks now that there’s a difference.
She’s more vulnerable at this very second than he has ever seen her before. She proves that when a minute or so later, her milk becomes tinged with blood, and she stops. He can feel her tensing and swallowing hard.
“I can’t do this,” she confesses, her grip tentative and nervous.
He grabs the pump before she has a chance of dropping it. “You’re scared of a little blood?” He doesn’t mean to sound judgmental, but maybe he is.
“When it’s in my milk, yes,” she snaps. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“No, you’re fine.” He attempts to come across as soothing and follows the words up with a kiss to her temple. “Just close your eyes. I’ll take care of it.”
“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this,” she says but closes her eyes and listens to him nonetheless. As he begins to use the pump, he thinks that this is the oddest thing he has ever done with her breasts or anyone’s breasts for that matter and wonders what that says about him.
In an effort to distract her and maybe himself, he asks, “You know why I could?”
“Do I want to know your theory?”
“Not a theory. It’s a fact.”
She sighs. “Fine. Tell me. I’d love to know how it is you’re able to get me to do anything you want, even when it involves me risking everything.” He can practically hear her regretting saying that. It’s visibly upset her.
He blames the outburst at least partially on hormones but knows he bears far more responsibility than anything else.
“Lucas was good for you… in some ways,” he says carefully.
“House -”
“Hear me out.”
“I don’t -”
“He was fun, emotionally available, dedicated to you. I’m sure he was great with Rachel and -”
“I don’t really want to talk about what a great guy he is, so if you could get to the point, I’d -”
“Shh.” With a free hand, he strokes her hair. He kisses her again, her neck, her shoulder, until she’s calmed down a little. “I wasn’t saying he was great - not for you. He didn’t know you.”
She doesn’t respond. Maybe she agrees. Maybe she suspected this all along. He thinks it would be hard not to know that, not after that stunt Lucas pulled with the cell phones that one time Rachel was sick, not after what Cuddy has done for years since then. House doesn’t bring that up.
“He didn’t know how to comfort you. You wouldn’t let him.”
She opens her eyes just long enough to give him a look of disbelief. Then she catches sight of her pinkish milk and turns her face to the side. “That’s not -”
“You are terrified to let anyone see just how dark and screwed up it can get with you.”
She laughs, but there is no joy in it. “Well, everyone knows now, don’t they?”
“No. You and I both know that’s not true. What’s the worst anyone is going to say about you for cheating? That you’re a bitch? An insatiable slut? We both know you’d prefer that than to be weak. You never let him see that, even when you needed him to be there for you. You can’t hide that from me, no matter how much you might want to. And you know it doesn’t scare me. It never will.”
“I know.” She says it so quietly he isn’t even sure she really said it.
“You trust me to comfort you, so you let me do this.” The mood feeling oppressively serious, he says, “And do you and things to your boobs in general.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long time after that. He finishes using the manual pump and dumps the milk without comment from her. He helps her to bed without hearing her complain about how she can change into her pajamas herself. He isn’t expecting otherwise, not tonight.
The last thirty days have been hard for her, to say the least. She’s lost her husband and a world of possibilities that came with him. Now she has House and a fever, and after a long week at work, she’s exhausted, overwhelmed. Things are changing faster than she can keep up with, and if she seems shut down, there’s a good chance that she is and has earned the right to be.
Then, just as she’s about to fall asleep, he says, “I love you.” She quickly echoes the words back, slurring them a little, and he realizes that she’s still here, with him.
Where she’s supposed to be.
The End