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crack_van2007-11-02 11:37 am
severuslovesme.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2007-11-02 11:37 am
Thou Mayest in Me Behold, by Leiascully (R)
Hey y'all, I'm driving the House van this month, so get psyched for lots and lots of recs about Cuddy!
To start us off:
Fandom: House
Pairing: House/Cuddy/Wilson
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
leiascully
Author Website: No Parenthesis
Why this must be read: The relationship between House, Wilson and Cuddy is one of the more interesting ones on the show, in my opinion. This fic brilliantly explores the dynamic between them - as dysfunctional and bizarre and lovely as it is. It's impossibly sweet but in a way that's true to the characters, and I hope y'all love it as much as I do!
The arrangement was Wilson's idea and that startled all of them.
"Enough," he said wearily one night. "Enough of this. Let's do something new."
"There's nothing new under the sun," House said, his arm slung over the back of the booth, almost around Cuddy's shoulders, and his leg stretched out so that his foot rested against Wilson's hip. He twirled one finger lazily in Cuddy's curls to irritate her. She tossed her head a little, hampered by House's hand tangled in her hair, and bared her teeth at him as she lifted her glass to her lips.
"Don't you ever wish things would change?" Wilson asked her. "Lisa? A little warmth after all this cold?"
She shifted at the sound of her name, put her shoulder against House's ribs under the crook of his arm. He let his fingertips brush the tender skin under her ear and all of them pretended not to notice. "We're too old to change," she said.
"We're not too old," House countered, "just too us. Too set in our ways. Adaptability is overrated." His free hand cradled the glass of scotch and he rolled it in his palm so that the liquid pulled in the light from the dim lamp overhead the same way that House had always gathered light to himself, though neither whiskey nor man gave up darkness. They all watched the glints shift across the facets of glass and liquid as House stroked Cuddy's neck, his calf warm against Wilson's thigh. Her pupils grew and shrank as the whiskey light changed and a flush rose on her cheeks, springtime coming back to what dreamed itself winter.
"So we're old," said Wilson, "at least we know our minds." He dropped a hand and let his fingers curl around House's ankle, moved his foot so that it rested against under Cuddy's toes where she'd shed her shoes under the table.
"Are you suggesting three-way couples therapy or a round of spin the bottle?" House asked, and Cuddy sighed into her vodka and tonic as his thumbnail traced her earlobe.
Thou Mayest in Me Behold
To start us off:
Fandom: House
Pairing: House/Cuddy/Wilson
Author on LJ:
leiascullyAuthor Website: No Parenthesis
Why this must be read: The relationship between House, Wilson and Cuddy is one of the more interesting ones on the show, in my opinion. This fic brilliantly explores the dynamic between them - as dysfunctional and bizarre and lovely as it is. It's impossibly sweet but in a way that's true to the characters, and I hope y'all love it as much as I do!
The arrangement was Wilson's idea and that startled all of them.
"Enough," he said wearily one night. "Enough of this. Let's do something new."
"There's nothing new under the sun," House said, his arm slung over the back of the booth, almost around Cuddy's shoulders, and his leg stretched out so that his foot rested against Wilson's hip. He twirled one finger lazily in Cuddy's curls to irritate her. She tossed her head a little, hampered by House's hand tangled in her hair, and bared her teeth at him as she lifted her glass to her lips.
"Don't you ever wish things would change?" Wilson asked her. "Lisa? A little warmth after all this cold?"
She shifted at the sound of her name, put her shoulder against House's ribs under the crook of his arm. He let his fingertips brush the tender skin under her ear and all of them pretended not to notice. "We're too old to change," she said.
"We're not too old," House countered, "just too us. Too set in our ways. Adaptability is overrated." His free hand cradled the glass of scotch and he rolled it in his palm so that the liquid pulled in the light from the dim lamp overhead the same way that House had always gathered light to himself, though neither whiskey nor man gave up darkness. They all watched the glints shift across the facets of glass and liquid as House stroked Cuddy's neck, his calf warm against Wilson's thigh. Her pupils grew and shrank as the whiskey light changed and a flush rose on her cheeks, springtime coming back to what dreamed itself winter.
"So we're old," said Wilson, "at least we know our minds." He dropped a hand and let his fingers curl around House's ankle, moved his foot so that it rested against under Cuddy's toes where she'd shed her shoes under the table.
"Are you suggesting three-way couples therapy or a round of spin the bottle?" House asked, and Cuddy sighed into her vodka and tonic as his thumbnail traced her earlobe.
Thou Mayest in Me Behold