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Aug. 17th, 2008 03:10 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
scruffyduck.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
escapingrealityTitle: Functioning
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rolleson
Fandom: House
Rating: R
Character/Pairing: House/Cuddy
Spoilers: Season Four
Warnings: No actual sex.
Summery: The morning after.
Notes: 1260 words, back to some sort of plot. Part Eleven.
i.Hot And Bothered
ii.Hesitations
iii.Weird
iv.Practical Application
v.Comfort Zone
vi.Progress?
vii.Think
viii.Semi
ix.Show and Tell
x.Confessional
He woke later to a glass of water next to the bed, the scent of breakfast wafting through the entire house. Eggs, toast, coffee. She was looking after him, and it didn't like it much but accepted it, clambering out of the bed to find his clothes in a neat pile on a chair, his cane hanging on the back of it. He considered walking through her house naked but felt too vulnerable after last night, too exposed, even though Cuddy had seen everything, knew everything. He settled on pulling his jeans on and grabbing his cane, padding bare foot to the kitchen.
He'd realised at some point in the night that this could work between them. Like he was a functioning addict, this could be a functioning relationship. Messed up, but functioning.
He liked that word.
She was dressed for work when he walked into the kitchen, half humming to the radio, the flowers he'd stolen for her brought out from the corner and into the sunshine, looking better than the night before.
He suspected he did too. Sex was good like that.
"Morning," she said when she turned around. She still had a just fucked glow, that he'd seen a few times before, but had never been the cause of until now.
"Eggs Benedict?" he asked, looking over her shoulder, "that still can't be the only thing you know how to cook?"
"No, but it's the only thing I know you like, other than Wilson's pancakes and cold Reubens."
He forgot sometimes that, while she could figure out the deeper parts of him, she didn't know the little things. His preferred breakfast cereal didn't compare to working out the deeper complexities of his mental health.
"Fruit loops are good," he said, "but I'm not really a breakfast kinda guy."
"I know," she smiled at him and served him his eggs, a small plate for herself. This didn't surprise him, he knew the smaller and the deeper things about Cuddy.
"Did you sleep at all after we had sex this morning?" he asked, leering down her top.
"A little, then I went for a run."
She sat opposite him at her little kitchen table, this was new, he realised, bare feet against his. They ate quietly for a little while until he had to say something about the niggling thought at the back of his mind.
"You're back on the pill. Or something," he said quietly, "haven't worked out exactly what yet."
"How did you know?"
"You've given up on a baby but not sex," he told her, "you'd never have sex with me without talking about the chance of getting pregnant if there was one."
She hesitated with her response, chewing her eggs slowly.
"You're right, I would want to talk about."
"What do you want?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I want a semi comfortable relationship with lots of sex and scotch. What do you want?"
She was looking at him with that disbelief he hated seeing. Like she was amazed he had asked, that he might care about what she wanted. He wasn't entirely sure he did care, but he was asking anyway.
"I still want kids. But I've accepted it'll probably never happen."
"Did you really go to therapy?" he asked.
"I had a couple of sessions. Didn't think it was for me."
"I knew you were stronger than that." She shrugged.
"I need to get to work." He nodded. "You know you could get ready, get those clinic hours out of the way."
"No thanks, I'd rather stay here and make myself at home."
"Mark your territory you mean."
"I was thinking about going back to sleep, then rifling through your things, but same difference."
She smiled, accepting him.
*****
"You're reading," Wilson said, frowning like it was the end of the world.
"Yes."
"A book," he added.
"Yes."
"You don't read books."
"I do too."
"Okay, then you don't read novels," he clarified. House didn't look up from the book, shifting his chair closer to his desk instead.
"And?"
"What are you reading?"
"Erotic fiction," House said, finally glancing up to see Wilson's confusion, "porn novel."
Wilson came to sit opposite him at the desk, looking closely at the book in his hands.
"Can I see?" he asked.
Not taking his eyes from the print, he reached across the desk with one hand and grabbed another book, throwing it at the other man. Wilson immediately opened it up and started reading. Neither spoke for a few minutes.
"Where the hell did you get these from?" he asked.
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you, then myself, before Cuddy did it."
"Cuddy!?"
"Yep."
"Wow."
"What? Women like porn, some sort of porn. I bet Cutthroat Bitch has an impressive collection." Wilson blushed red and House smirked. "I knew it."
"Cuddy gave you her porn."
"I stole it when she went to work this morning."
"Did you break in or were you already there?" Wilson asked, with a small smile, fishing.
"I was already there," House said, without hesitation.
"So you two..."
"Fucked? yes. Twice." His eyes went back to the book in his hands. He was going to have to invest in some of these, they were perfect for work.
"So the date went well?"
"No, it was a disaster."
"Oh."
"We decided not to date."
"Oh," Wilson frowned again, "but you two are..."
"The words are semi comfortable relationship."
"And Cuddy is okay with this?"
"She said yes," House said, "except it was more like a scream."
Wilson rolled his eyes, then almost jumped clean out of his chair when he heard Cuddy's distinctive click, clack in the corridor, then her voice at the door.
"House! Clinic. Now!"
The book flew from Wilson's hand at her words, cheeks burning.
"What are you two doing?" she asked, suspicious. She walked into the office.
"Reading," House said, smirking up at her.
"Oh god..." she trailed off when she saw what he was reading. "Clinic now!"
House pushed himself to his feet, book still in one hand, walking past her, cane in the other.
"You can do an extra hour for this," she said, making a grab for the book. He dodged her attempt with a grin.
"No way. you can't punish me with work for relationship fuck ups."
"Or he'll be doing clinic hours until he's ninety," Wilson put in.
"He owes me that many clinic hours anyway," Cuddy replied, with a little smile, making another attempted to get her book back.
"We need to set some rules."
"Yes, like not bringing my private things to work."
"I want to read this to my patients," he said, waving the book teasingly at her. She didn't bite, crossing her arms instead.
"Do that, and it'll be forty years between blow jobs and not twenty," she said, "do you hours and you can have one tonight."
"Damn," he muttered. He thought about it for a moment, then handed her the book and left the office.
When he was gone, Cuddy turned to Wilson, both doctors bright red with embarrassment.
"James, I'm sorry. House and I shouldn't bring our relationship to work, and definitely shouldn't discuss it so blatantly in front of you."
"It's fine Cuddy. I'm happy for you both." She smiled and collected her books from House's desk.
"And about the books, I, ah..." He cut her off.
"It's fine. You should see some of the dvds Amber owns."
With that he got up and walking away, his step a little awkward, making Cuddy laugh.
Author:
rollesonFandom: House
Rating: R
Character/Pairing: House/Cuddy
Spoilers: Season Four
Warnings: No actual sex.
Summery: The morning after.
Notes: 1260 words, back to some sort of plot. Part Eleven.
i.Hot And Bothered
ii.Hesitations
iii.Weird
iv.Practical Application
v.Comfort Zone
vi.Progress?
vii.Think
viii.Semi
ix.Show and Tell
x.Confessional
He woke later to a glass of water next to the bed, the scent of breakfast wafting through the entire house. Eggs, toast, coffee. She was looking after him, and it didn't like it much but accepted it, clambering out of the bed to find his clothes in a neat pile on a chair, his cane hanging on the back of it. He considered walking through her house naked but felt too vulnerable after last night, too exposed, even though Cuddy had seen everything, knew everything. He settled on pulling his jeans on and grabbing his cane, padding bare foot to the kitchen.
He'd realised at some point in the night that this could work between them. Like he was a functioning addict, this could be a functioning relationship. Messed up, but functioning.
He liked that word.
She was dressed for work when he walked into the kitchen, half humming to the radio, the flowers he'd stolen for her brought out from the corner and into the sunshine, looking better than the night before.
He suspected he did too. Sex was good like that.
"Morning," she said when she turned around. She still had a just fucked glow, that he'd seen a few times before, but had never been the cause of until now.
"Eggs Benedict?" he asked, looking over her shoulder, "that still can't be the only thing you know how to cook?"
"No, but it's the only thing I know you like, other than Wilson's pancakes and cold Reubens."
He forgot sometimes that, while she could figure out the deeper parts of him, she didn't know the little things. His preferred breakfast cereal didn't compare to working out the deeper complexities of his mental health.
"Fruit loops are good," he said, "but I'm not really a breakfast kinda guy."
"I know," she smiled at him and served him his eggs, a small plate for herself. This didn't surprise him, he knew the smaller and the deeper things about Cuddy.
"Did you sleep at all after we had sex this morning?" he asked, leering down her top.
"A little, then I went for a run."
She sat opposite him at her little kitchen table, this was new, he realised, bare feet against his. They ate quietly for a little while until he had to say something about the niggling thought at the back of his mind.
"You're back on the pill. Or something," he said quietly, "haven't worked out exactly what yet."
"How did you know?"
"You've given up on a baby but not sex," he told her, "you'd never have sex with me without talking about the chance of getting pregnant if there was one."
She hesitated with her response, chewing her eggs slowly.
"You're right, I would want to talk about."
"What do you want?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I want a semi comfortable relationship with lots of sex and scotch. What do you want?"
She was looking at him with that disbelief he hated seeing. Like she was amazed he had asked, that he might care about what she wanted. He wasn't entirely sure he did care, but he was asking anyway.
"I still want kids. But I've accepted it'll probably never happen."
"Did you really go to therapy?" he asked.
"I had a couple of sessions. Didn't think it was for me."
"I knew you were stronger than that." She shrugged.
"I need to get to work." He nodded. "You know you could get ready, get those clinic hours out of the way."
"No thanks, I'd rather stay here and make myself at home."
"Mark your territory you mean."
"I was thinking about going back to sleep, then rifling through your things, but same difference."
She smiled, accepting him.
*****
"You're reading," Wilson said, frowning like it was the end of the world.
"Yes."
"A book," he added.
"Yes."
"You don't read books."
"I do too."
"Okay, then you don't read novels," he clarified. House didn't look up from the book, shifting his chair closer to his desk instead.
"And?"
"What are you reading?"
"Erotic fiction," House said, finally glancing up to see Wilson's confusion, "porn novel."
Wilson came to sit opposite him at the desk, looking closely at the book in his hands.
"Can I see?" he asked.
Not taking his eyes from the print, he reached across the desk with one hand and grabbed another book, throwing it at the other man. Wilson immediately opened it up and started reading. Neither spoke for a few minutes.
"Where the hell did you get these from?" he asked.
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you, then myself, before Cuddy did it."
"Cuddy!?"
"Yep."
"Wow."
"What? Women like porn, some sort of porn. I bet Cutthroat Bitch has an impressive collection." Wilson blushed red and House smirked. "I knew it."
"Cuddy gave you her porn."
"I stole it when she went to work this morning."
"Did you break in or were you already there?" Wilson asked, with a small smile, fishing.
"I was already there," House said, without hesitation.
"So you two..."
"Fucked? yes. Twice." His eyes went back to the book in his hands. He was going to have to invest in some of these, they were perfect for work.
"So the date went well?"
"No, it was a disaster."
"Oh."
"We decided not to date."
"Oh," Wilson frowned again, "but you two are..."
"The words are semi comfortable relationship."
"And Cuddy is okay with this?"
"She said yes," House said, "except it was more like a scream."
Wilson rolled his eyes, then almost jumped clean out of his chair when he heard Cuddy's distinctive click, clack in the corridor, then her voice at the door.
"House! Clinic. Now!"
The book flew from Wilson's hand at her words, cheeks burning.
"What are you two doing?" she asked, suspicious. She walked into the office.
"Reading," House said, smirking up at her.
"Oh god..." she trailed off when she saw what he was reading. "Clinic now!"
House pushed himself to his feet, book still in one hand, walking past her, cane in the other.
"You can do an extra hour for this," she said, making a grab for the book. He dodged her attempt with a grin.
"No way. you can't punish me with work for relationship fuck ups."
"Or he'll be doing clinic hours until he's ninety," Wilson put in.
"He owes me that many clinic hours anyway," Cuddy replied, with a little smile, making another attempted to get her book back.
"We need to set some rules."
"Yes, like not bringing my private things to work."
"I want to read this to my patients," he said, waving the book teasingly at her. She didn't bite, crossing her arms instead.
"Do that, and it'll be forty years between blow jobs and not twenty," she said, "do you hours and you can have one tonight."
"Damn," he muttered. He thought about it for a moment, then handed her the book and left the office.
When he was gone, Cuddy turned to Wilson, both doctors bright red with embarrassment.
"James, I'm sorry. House and I shouldn't bring our relationship to work, and definitely shouldn't discuss it so blatantly in front of you."
"It's fine Cuddy. I'm happy for you both." She smiled and collected her books from House's desk.
"And about the books, I, ah..." He cut her off.
"It's fine. You should see some of the dvds Amber owns."
With that he got up and walking away, his step a little awkward, making Cuddy laugh.
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