Fic: Burning Flames in December (2/2)

Title: Burning Flames in December (2/2)
Author:  adieangel
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: House/Cuddy
Summary: In the days before a blizzard strikes New Jersey, Cuddy begins receiving mysterious gifts. Circa mid-season 4.
Prompt: Winter, snowed in, drama, angst, humor (though there’s very little drama/angst – sorry.)
A/N: The title is a lyric from Weezer’s “December”.  It’s a good song.  It kind of works with this story, if you squint.

This fic is dedicated to quietslytherins as part of house_cuddy Secret Santa.

Part one can be found here.

-

Day Five

Seven hours later, the storm rages outside.  Cuddy had sent Ann home before the brunt of the storm hit, and the ER has been flooded with frostbite, car injuries, carbon monoxide poisonings, and sniffling noses since about eight o’clock this evening.  Only now, with the roads blocked and the city going to bed, has it finally begun to die down.  Cuddy, having changed into a pair of green scrubs and tennis shoes, had spent hours manning the ER.  Now her feet hurt, there is a splotch of blood on her shirt from an errant IV, and vomit on her shoe.  Her hair is in a mussed ponytail.  She is sure she looks like hell.

The hospital's administration department had set up a temporary dormitory in the cafeteria for staff who were staying in the hospital overnight.  Several doctors had sofas in their offices, but most of the nursing staff, technicians, and fellows were out of luck.  Now, with people finally able to take a break, the cafeteria is filling up and Cuddy has found herself playing Residential Administrator to a bunch of tired colleagues and employees.

“Thanks, Mark.  Yeah, that cot over there next to Doctor Taub is free,” she points to an empty cot and hands the uncomfortably young-looking resident a blanket, pillow, and sealed bag of toiletries.

“Thanks, Doctor Cuddy,” he replies, taking the items and heading over.

Cuddy finally has a moment to sit down, and grabs an apple from the basket near the register, taking a bite.  Her stomach rumbles.  Her mind drifts absentmindedly to the heart she received earlier today, and House’s asinine comment.  Is that what the gift-giver meant? she worries.  That she doesn’t have a heart?  Or that his (or her) heart belongs to Cuddy?  Or was it just something fun and related to her field?  With her track record, it’s probably a stalker in the making.  These thoughts race through her mind as she grabs a banana and heads out of the room.  She looks at her watch, noticing that it’s past midnight.  It’s time.  She needs to check on House.

-

Shoving his door open, Cuddy enters House's darkened office.  It's empty. Where is he?  She notes with a scowl that a cot has been placed along one wall in the office, because heaven forbid he sleep downstairs with the regular employees.  She throws the banana down onto the cot for House. The lights are off in the adjacent conference room, too, she notices, but unlike in his office, the blinds surrounding the conference room are shut.

"House?" She knocks on the door, then tries the handle only to find it locked.  There is no answer from inside, though she is startled when she hears what may be a whispered curse word, followed by rummaging.

"House, what are you doing in there?" She knocks again.

"Cuddy?"

"House. Open the door."

"Go away."

"I'm not leaving. House, what are you doing in there? I paged you three times tonight, we've got a building full of patients, a snowed in staff, and you're, what, hiding in the conference room?" Her voice was rising in frustration, "Do you really not care at all about the people in this hospital?"

The door unlocks and House's smug face sticks out of the narrow gap between the door and the frame, "I told you I would come in. I did not say I would do any work, nor do I care about anyone else who does. Why does that surprise you?"

Cuddy's fist clenches tightly and she actively resists punching him, "Then what the hell are you doing here?"

He holds up two fingers and says, "Vicodin, and snow.  I came for the Vicodin.  Couldn’t leave because of the snow."

"No, what are you doing in there?" She breathes, her nostrils flaring in frustration.

"None of your -"

Cuddy launches forward, throwing her weight against the door and forcing it open. Caught off guard, House stumbles backwards, nearly falling before he catches himself on the glass top of the conference table.

“What are you-“ he says, a surprised, slightly proud expression on his face.

She lifts her hand, jabbing her finger into the air in front of his face, “My hospital, my rules.”

House moves directly in front of her, still trying to block her view of the room.  She moves left, he moves left.  She counters right, but he moves too fast for her to get around him.  Finally she stops, glaring up at him.

“House, get out of my way.”

“No,” he replies, a small smile on his face as he watches her temper flare.

She takes this second to fake left and slip past him on the right, finally seeing what House was up to.  In the center of the room, lying on the conference table, is a full-sized female CPR dummy, stripped down to its anatomically incorrect nudity.

“What the…” Cuddy stares in slightly disgusted surprise at this before her eyes continue their journey to the far end of the table, where four boxes, two large and two small, are piled up.

She looks back at the naked dummy, then up at him, noticing the sheepish look on his face.  She rolls her eyes, “Why can’t you just watch porn like everyone else?”

He doesn’t respond.

Cuddy walks around the table, past the CPR dummy, toward the boxes.  It is only then that House moves, following close behind her.  Internally, he curses the fact that he has left his cane leaning against the window on the opposite side of the room.

As she starts to open the top most box, a long skinny silver container, he seems to panic, stopping her with his hand.

“No,” he pleads, and the fear in his voice is enough to cause her to pull her hand back.

She looks up at him, her anger starting to dissipate, and asks gently, “What is all this, House?”

“You weren’t supposed to see this,” is his reply, his voice quiet.

She lifts the top off the silver box, and his eyes squeeze shut in a wince of embarrassment.

Inside the box is a rubber arm, complete with blood pressure cuff.  She eyes the arm curiously, pulling the heavy teaching tool out of the box.

“Why do you have an S410 Blood Pressure System in a box on your desk?”

"It’s, um,” House refuses to meet her eyes, “It’s a gift.”

“You’re giving someone an eight hundred dollar fake arm that belongs to my medical school?  To whom?”

House doesn’t answer.  She looks over the arm, from the blood pressure cuff at the top, down the elbow and over the diamond tennis bracelet on the wrist.  Wait.  What?  Her eyes move back to the bracelet, then grow wide.

“What?” she says aloud, noticing for the first time that the box bears a striking similarity to the one she was wielding as a weapon earlier that day, the one with the stuffed heart inside.

“Is this… for me?”

House leans heavily against the glass table, “Well, not anymore.”

She walks over to him, their height differences less pronounced with his ass halfway onto the tabletop, “The gifts, the past week?  You said it wasn’t you.  You had a patient.  You were so… preoccupied.”

“I lied,” he sighs.

“But… why?”

“It was supposed to be a Hanukkah present.  Eight days.  Eight presents.”

“But… you’re an atheist,” she says, confused.  Her brain cannot comprehend House doing something nice, clearly, as this is causing her such consternation.

“Yeah, well, you’re not,” he says, almost accusatorily.

Her brow furrows as she stares down at the beautiful bracelet on the fake arm, still clutched in one hand.  She lifts it up, and House looks pleased that she is admiring the jewelry he had meant to give her.

THWAP.

“Ow!” House exclaims.  Cuddy had smacked him in the shoulder, hard, with the fake arm.

“Those presents?  They’ve been creeping me out, you asshole!”

“What?”

“I thought it was you – I was sure it was you!  But then you said it wasn’t and I thought, I don’t know, that I had a stalker or something.  I mean, who sends balloon hands?  Or a stuffed beating heart?  It’s creepy!”  Cuddy hits him with the arm again, not as hard this time.

“Would you stop hitting me?”  House exclaims, standing back up to his full height and grabbing the arm from her, “If you don’t want the bracelet –“

Cuddy stops, “No, I want it.”

“You just said it creeped you out.”

“Yeah, when I thought it wasn’t you.  Give that back,” she reaches for the arm, but House holds it out of her reach.

She rolls her eyes, “I’m not jumping for it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Damn.  I thought I was going to get a free show,” he snarks, and she smirks as he looks down at her breasts which, even covered in baggy scrubs, are still pretty impressive to him.  He puts the arm onto the table next to the naked dummy.

“So what’s with the Ambu Cardiac dummy?” she asks, nodding in its direction.

“That’s for day six.  I wanted to get it all ready tonight in case-"

“You do realize that if I walked into my office and found that thing on my couch looking like that, I would have killed you,” she looks up at him warily.

He smiles, then, which surprises her, “Not if you saw what she was wearing.”

She raises an eyebrow, surprised by his… kindness.  There is no other word for it, really, and it is so out of character for him that when she realizes this she takes a step back, “Why are you doing all this, House?  You don’t care about… people.”

He leans forward, favoring his right leg, “You’re right.  I don’t.”

“Then why –“

“I care about you.”

“But –“ Cuddy is at a loss for words.  Her eyes search his for a long moment.  She just doesn’t understand.  This is not who he is.  She doesn’t expect, well, anything from him.   Let alone something as thoughtful as this.

House can see the confusion on her face, and it dawns on him that she doesn’t even think this is something he’s capable of, let alone willing to do for her.  Disappointment burns in his chest as he turns away from her gaze.

“Never mind.  This was stupid.”

He removes the bracelet from the mechanical arm, before placing the arm back in the box.

“I’m sorry, Cuddy.  This was a mistake.  Don’t worry about it.”

She stares at him in disbelief, “What?” she asks.  She is tired and sore and House told her he cares about her and she is processing all this when he just backs away and gives up?

“No, wait,” she grabs his arm, halting his haphazard packing, and tugs him toward her, catching his lips in a kiss.  His mouth opens beneath hers for a moment and she savors the contact before he pulls away.

"Cuddy, what -" his eyes search hers.

She smiles, "I like it.  I really do," she brings up her hand, stroking his rough, stubbled cheek gently before guiding him down to her for another kiss.  This kiss is nowhere near as gentle as the first, and fire shoots through her veins as his tongue makes contact with her own.  She backs up against the table, their mouths still fused together, and hops up, narrowing their considerable height difference.  He moves between her spread legs, and the kiss deepens.  His hands move to cup her cheeks gently, and Cuddy can feel his passion, his yearning, and his fear, all in the pulsing heat of his mouth on hers.

Cuddy shivers when she feels the warmth of his hands curl around her waist, gently pushing the fabric of her scrub top up.  She breaks the kiss on a gasp, and House's lips blindly search for hers once more when he hears, "House, wait. We can't -"

"The blinds are closed, the door is..."

"Open, remember?" She looks up into his eyes, and the intensity in his gaze, the moisture of his lips, are incredibly arousing.

"Well, we have a bed right on the other side of that wall, and a lock on the door..." he suggests, his voice low and gravelly and hitting her in all the right places.

She takes a moment.  House’s eyes stare pleadingly into hers as all the reasons why they shouldn’t – they’re in the hospital, it’s late, he’s House – and why they should – everyone’s asleep five levels down in the cafeteria, she has caught him in a rare moment of honesty, she really wants him, and, well, he’s House - flit through her brain.

She smiles flirtatiously, "Sounds good."

House grabs her hand, limping towards the conference room door with Cuddy in tow.  Once they've passed the threshold, he locks the conference room door, and the door to his office, closing the blinds.  When he turns around, Cuddy is sitting on the cot, her legs crossed demurely.

"What's with the banana?" he asks, looking at the yellow fruit to her left.

"I thought you could use the potassium," she jokes as he launches toward her, capturing her lips with his own.  There is no gentleness to this kiss, no pretext.  His tongue duels with hers as she struggles to unbutton his jeans.  She gets the last button undone, pushing them down over his boxers just as he slides his hands under the top of her scrubs, lifting it up.  She pulls back briefly to remove the top, and House takes the opportunity to admire her breasts, clad in a dark red lacy bra.

"Wow," he breathes, "Come to papa."  She laughs, a low chuckle, inviting his hands up to caress them, her nipples tightening in anticipation.  His hands roam to her back, undoing the bra and, letting it fall to the floor, he presses his palms against her.  Cuddy moans in appreciation, pulling at his neck and kissing him hard as he kicks off his pants, shoes, and socks.  Her hand travels down the front of his shirt before cupping his growing erection through his boxers.  House gasps into her mouth, and she grins triumphantly.

He tears off his button down and t-shirt as Cuddy's hands immediately move to his chest, her fingers gliding through the sparse hair there before she leans in to kiss his jugular. House moans then, his hands tugging at her pants.  She lifts up her ass to pull them off, along with her shoes, socks, and now soaked underwear, and practically yanks him on top of her onto the small cot.

The kiss burns between them as lips, tongues and teeth clash together.  House’s left hand runs gently down her shoulder to her breast as his right presses against the thin coiled mattress of the cot, holding himself above her.  He squeezes the flesh of her breast before he breaks the kiss on a gasp, his lips trailing down her neck to latch greedily onto one turgid nipple.  The whiskers of his 2 a.m. stubble tickle the underside of her breast and she arches her back gracefully, moaning in appreciation.  Her hands stroke his arms, shoulders, anywhere she can reach before resting on the soft cotton of his boxers.  She squeezes his ass cheek through the fabric, which prompts House to push the offending material down and off.  She reaches greedily for his erection as his hand moves over her stomach and down to gently part the folds of her dripping sex.  Her breath catches at the contact, and she hears his catch, too, as she gently strokes his penis.  He dips one finger into her center, then two, and feels her grip on his cock tighten almost painfully.  He stares up at her, his blue eyes flashing, before his lips continue their journey south.  He shifts his body slightly, scooting as far down as the small cot allows while pressing his lips to the soft skin of her abdomen.

“House,” Cuddy moans.

“Hmm?” he asks, his lips still moving along her skin, his fingers still pumping slowly in and out of her.

“This isn’t going to work.”

His fingers halt their movements as he looks up at her, fear in his eyes.  She smiles, caressing his cheek for a moment before continuing.

“The cot,” she points to his legs practically dangling off the bottom of the short cot before curling her finger, beckoning him back up her body.

“Yeah, I guess not,” he agrees mirthfully before he presses himself against her fully, his cock pressing tantalizingly against her wet core.

“One,” she whispers, grasping him tightly, her thighs squeezing his, “Two, three.”

Without warning, she pushes him over, and he follows willingly as they flip over so that she is now straddling him.  His hands caress her thighs as she leans down for a quick but thorough kiss.

“Much better,” she sighs, and House smiles at her for the first time, his eyes warm.  She smiles back, his hand moving to her face, his thumb softly tracing the lines of her smile.  Her eyes close for a moment, overcome as she is by the gentleness of the small gesture.  She leans down for another kiss, positioning herself above him and, breaking the kiss, sinks slowly down onto him.  House’s head shoots back at the intensity of the contact, his hands gripping the sheets of the cot as she settles on top of him, adjusting to the welcome invasion.

As she begins to move, her hands slap onto his chest and his move to grip the warm globes of her ass.  Her curls, now loose from her ponytail, bounce slightly with each rise and fall of her hips and as she leans down for another searing kiss, they tickle House’s face.  Their tongues twine together as the delicious friction causes the curl of arousal to tighten low in her belly. She can taste the salty tang of her sweat on his lips and moans as he begins to move his hips in counterpoint to hers.  She breaks the kiss on a gasp, panting into his mouth as her orgasm approaches.

House drags his right hand over her hips, finding her clit with his middle finger and presses hard.  Cuddy bites her lip to keep from screaming as her orgasm blooms in her belly and House’s pace quickens, her ass slapping against his thighs as his orgasm follows hers seconds later.

“Oh god,” he cries out, thrusting his head back as Cuddy collapses onto his chest, spent.

As their breathing returns to normal, she looks up into his eyes, a clear blue, and smiles.

“Happy Hanukkah, Cuddy,” he whispers, and she squeezes her eyes together as laughter erupts from her.  House can only stare at her, this strong, lithe, exhausted, beautiful woman lying on top of him, as she laughs contently for a full minute.

-

Day Five, 4 a.m.

“So, what’s in the rest of those boxes?” she asks, her eyes glancing in the direction of the closed door of the conference room.  Cuddy lies curled up along House’s side, her head on his chest and a tangled mess of sheets covering them.

He looks down at her mischievously, “There are still three days of Hanukkah left, Cuddy.  You’ll just have to wait and see.”

She slaps his chest in playful outrage.

“Of course,” he adds teasingly, “We could just count each orgasm I give you as a Hanukkah present and I don’t have to worry about giving you anything else.”

“Okay,” she agrees, to his surprise.  He stares down at her, his eyes squinting with suspicion, “But that means we’re going to have to have sex for, oh, at least another three days,” she continues, her tone light, “Do you think you can handle that?”

“I don’t know, Cuddy.  All that desperate administrative need.  I don’t know if I can –“

“Shut up, House.”

“I’m just saying, it’s an awfully big responsibility, keeping you sated for three whole days.  I don’t know if I’m up for it.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that will be a problem.  Especially if we’re stuck here for a while,” she tilts her head up to look out the window at the blinding snowfall outside.

“And after that?” he asks quietly.

“Well, I guess,” her eyes search his for a moment, “I owe you a Christmas present.”

-

Six Months Later

“Sarah?” Cuddy calls from her office as her new assistant comes rushing in, “Could you get me those requisition reports for the last year for Nephrology, Oncology, and Diagnostics, please?”

“Right away, Doctor Cuddy,” Sarah answers, backing out quickly.

Moments later, the papers are on her desk, and Cuddy grabs the first one on the stack.   Diagnostics.  Her grin turns into a scowl as she sees the mess of reports, once again cursing Cameron’s desire to transfer to the ER.  At the top, completely out of order, is the requisition request from the previous August.  A mess of office supplies, she notes absentmindedly.  House rarely, if ever, needs those.  He usually just steals them from Wilson.

Duct tape, test tube brushes, a ridiculous variety of latex gloves, a helium tank, and something labeled “miscellaneous beverages”.  Her brow furrows in curiosity before realizing why House had needed all of these seemingly random supplies.  She glanced again at the date.  August, 2007.  Four months before he started giving her gifts made from the very office supplies he had requisitioned.

She doesn’t know whether to be outraged or flattered, and is still debating whether or not to pick up the phone and scold him when her Blackberry beeps.  She groans, shutting the requisitions folder and pulling her phone out of her briefcase.

“Dinner or sex?  8pm, my place.” The text reads.

She glowers at the phone, still not sure if he deserves punishment or praise for using hospital funds to woo her nearly four months in advance.  Before she can make up her mind, however, her phone beeps again.

“Trick question.  It’s both. –H”

She rolls her eyes, smiling absurdly at the piece of technology in her hand.  There’s her answer.

-

The End

A/N 2: It’s totally cheeseball, but I hope you enjoyed it.  I know you wanted angst, Alex, but other than a beat or two, I really wanted to keep it light.  Sorry.  Hope you like it anyway. :P

For those who are curious, the drink House made for her is called an Apple Cin (http://cocktails.about.com/od/vodkadrinkrecipes/r/apple_cin.htm) and the beating heart plush toy looks like this: http://www.amazon.com/Plush-Beating-Heart-With-Movement/dp/B003DO5PGO