alanwolfmoon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alanwolfmoon) wrote2009-05-05 05:40 pm
alanwolfmoon) wrote2009-05-05 05:40 pm
Entry tags:
A Start
Title: A Start
Pairing: House/Cuddy
Author: alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG
Warnings: spoilers for Under My Skin
Summary: Cuddy sits with House while he sleeps.
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: Set right after the, eh, event at the end of Under My Skin.
T
Cuddy smiled, as she sat up against the pillows, his head resting on her stomach, his eyes closed, his breathing steady and peaceful.
She gently ran her hand through his hair, the graying-brown curls soft around her fingers.
He stirred a little, and his hand closed in the long shirt she had borrowed from him, right up against her hip.
He’d been through so much, so many years of pain, both physical and of the heart.
And now he sleeps, resting, and she thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
He trusts her, lying her, completely vulnerable, naked in both the literal and psychological meanings, no longer trying to hide how hurt he is, and how much he needs her.
The pain was worse without the vicodin, but not as much as he had feared.
She slid her hand along his shoulders, the right more muscled than the left, but neither unattractive, or by any means imperfect.
She rubbed gently at knots in the muscle, easing them as he slept.
House hates people who want to fix him. She loves him the way he is. She only wishes she could spare him pain.
She only wishes she could fix that for him.
But she can’t.
His eyes are twitching beneath the lids now, he’s dreaming, and his hand curls and twitches.
She strokes his hair, gently, tenderly, and his face smoothes out, the distress that had been beginning to build there dissipating and leaving him peaceful once more.
He is so tired, and so hurt, and she wonders why he’s so dead set on making people think that he isn’t.
On showing everyone he’s fine and strong and perfect, and then going home and fighting pain and misery alone.
She wonders and she wishes he wouldn’t, and she wants to help him so bad it hurts her heart.
But at least he’s allowing her this much.
At least he’s letting her hold him while he sleeps, letting her stroke his hair and calm his dreams.
At least he trusts her a little.
And that’s a start.
Pairing: House/Cuddy
Author: alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG
Warnings: spoilers for Under My Skin
Summary: Cuddy sits with House while he sleeps.
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: Set right after the, eh, event at the end of Under My Skin.
T
Cuddy smiled, as she sat up against the pillows, his head resting on her stomach, his eyes closed, his breathing steady and peaceful.
She gently ran her hand through his hair, the graying-brown curls soft around her fingers.
He stirred a little, and his hand closed in the long shirt she had borrowed from him, right up against her hip.
He’d been through so much, so many years of pain, both physical and of the heart.
And now he sleeps, resting, and she thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
He trusts her, lying her, completely vulnerable, naked in both the literal and psychological meanings, no longer trying to hide how hurt he is, and how much he needs her.
The pain was worse without the vicodin, but not as much as he had feared.
She slid her hand along his shoulders, the right more muscled than the left, but neither unattractive, or by any means imperfect.
She rubbed gently at knots in the muscle, easing them as he slept.
House hates people who want to fix him. She loves him the way he is. She only wishes she could spare him pain.
She only wishes she could fix that for him.
But she can’t.
His eyes are twitching beneath the lids now, he’s dreaming, and his hand curls and twitches.
She strokes his hair, gently, tenderly, and his face smoothes out, the distress that had been beginning to build there dissipating and leaving him peaceful once more.
He is so tired, and so hurt, and she wonders why he’s so dead set on making people think that he isn’t.
On showing everyone he’s fine and strong and perfect, and then going home and fighting pain and misery alone.
She wonders and she wishes he wouldn’t, and she wants to help him so bad it hurts her heart.
But at least he’s allowing her this much.
At least he’s letting her hold him while he sleeps, letting her stroke his hair and calm his dreams.
At least he trusts her a little.
And that’s a start.