Summary: A House/Wilson slash fic set directly after the season six finale. There will be eight chapters, two posted each day.
Disclaimer: I do not on House or any of the characters. If I did, you wouldn't be reading this on fanfiction, you'd be watching it on TV.
A/N: I'm not sure what day it was supposed to be, so I've arbitrarily decided that, for the purposes of this fic, the season six finale occurred on a Saturday.
The Morning After
Greg House opened his eyes and looked at his clock. 7:35. Damn leg. Couldn't the thing learn not to wake him up early on Sundays?
He heard a soft murmur next to him and froze as the memories of last night came catching up to him. Giving Cuddy that book as a housewarming gift. Learning that she and Lucas were more than just moving in together. Her yelling at him to move on, she doesn't love him, she's moving on, Wilson's moving on...Hannah, the girl with the trapped leg. Convincing her to amputate, not turn out like him. The ambulance ride. The shouting match with Foreman. Going home. The Vicodin. And Cuddy...
Cuddy confessing she'd loved him all along, as much as she didn't want to, and he'd...he'd kissed her. He'd held her hand and kissed her, and then they'd gone into the bedroom.
House turned to look at the still-sleeping form next to him. He didn't think he'd ever seen her so relaxed. She didn't move except for the rise and fall of her chest; her face, often stern when aimed at him but sometimes laughing, was peaceful. He brushed some dark hairs out of her face, careful not to wake her. This was probably the first time in years she'd slept this late, Sunday and all. House sighed, watching her sleep, put his hand on her upper arm and chanced placing a scratchy kiss to her temple.
He cared about her. He wanted...for once...to do right by her. That's what he'd been going for when he'd given her the book, and now...he'd made a mistake. For years, they'd flirted back and forth, sometimes coming dangerously close to a relationship, to sex again, but never quite getting there.
Because it was a mistake.
Maybe before Mayfield, he might have let it happen because he'd been such a selfish jerk, and he might even have convinced himself he could fall in love with Lisa, but now...he'd been off Vicodin for nearly a year. He'd been trying to improve himself for nearly a year. And that meant showing that he cared for other people, not just himself. It meant...doing right by them.
Cuddy was a special woman. House had known her since medical school, wanted to pursue a relationship with her after their one night stand, but the timing had been off and he'd given up. But years later, she'd offered him a job when no one else would, not out of pity, but because she knew he was the best and she wanted the best. And because a part of her still liked him. And a part of him still loved her. A part of him would always love her.
But she deserved more than that. She deserved a man who would give her all of himself, love her and only her, not just be a good father to Rachel (though that was important, too), but truly love Lisa with all of his heart.
House knew he couldn't be that guy. His heart belonged to another. As much as he cared for Lisa Cuddy, even loved her, he could never be in love with her. Pretending he was, giving in, starting a relationship wouldn't be fair to either of them.
No. He wasn't going to do this any more. Lisa had been right, last night. House needed to stop being a selfish jerk, stop keeping everyone around him as miserable as he was. If he allowed himself a relationship with Lisa, all that would accomplish would be to prevent the pair of them from being happy. He was going to stop. He'd been trying for a year to change, to become a better man, and he wasn't going to let one mistake set him back. He was going to fix this. Lisa deserved better, and so did he.
House got out of bed slowly and carefully, cursing himself for leaving his cane at the disaster site even though it had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, and tried to pull clothes on without waking Lisa. He didn't know how much longer she'd sleep, so he hastily scribbled a note and left it on the nightstand, using her cell phone as a paperweight. Then House hesitated again. Knowing he might never have another chance, he placed a gentle kiss on Lisa's forehead, cupping her cheek with his palm. She smiled in her sleep and House felt a twinge of guilt for what he had to do. It was his fault. Yes, she'd confessed her love to him while he sat on the floor of his bathroom with Vicodin, but he'd been the one to kiss her.
But what could he do? He'd made a mistake; the adult thing to do was apologise and move on. He'd taken one night from Cuddy. It was better than months or years. He wasn't going to let everyone else put up with his selfishness and his foolish decisions anymore. He was going to take responsibility for his actions for once in his life. If what he had to do wouldn't upset her, Cuddy might even be proud of him.