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Synopsis: When your car breaks down, House offers you a ride on his motorcycle.
Warning: Co-worker!reader. Not a long fic, no use of 'yn'. Also, the reader is the head of pulmonology.
Finally closing your laptop after another long day, you were excited to finally go home, cuddle with your cat while drinking tea and reading your book, the perfect night. You got up from your chair, gathering all of your belongings in your light pink backpack. Outside your window you could see the dark blue of the night being a contrast to the warm orange night of the street lights, it was your favourite time of day, you preferred this part of the day rather than being home, maybe it was because that look outside your window reminded you that the day was finished, and you could finally relax, no thousands of thoughts per minute running through your head.
The office you spend most of your time in was showing proof of your long work hours, the shelves were filled with books and comics, from greek mythology to 'Batman: Detective Comics', you wanted your patients to feel comfortable no matter the age, plus, if they really didn't know what to say, it could be a good conversation starter, it happened more than people would expect.
As you did a double check on your gatherings, making sure you packed everything you needed for the night, two cases you needed to finish writing in and one case you weren't sure if the diagnosis was correct to think over, just as you were about to turn off the lights, you remembered that you didn't put your mug away, grabbing it.
Finally leaving, you let your thoughts wander while looking at the atmosphere of the hospital, on one side, people were laughing, finally going home with their kid after a presumably long and painful treatment, on the other side, people were crying, either for their dead partner whose body couldn't handle the hard illness and painful treatment or crying over their child, feeling helpless that they couldn't do anything to ease their pain.
You found hospitals comforting, from spending your first three months of life in one because of your premature birth to endless nights of residency, working for 36 hours without sleep. It was like a second home to you; you were grateful that you chose to become a doctor because if you didn't, you wouldn't know how you would handle the place. Going inside the doctors' lounge, from the looks of it, it seemed empty. You hummed a tune to yourself as you walked towards the sink.
"ugh, here comes the embodiment of the sun, you are aware that it's 8pm? No need for the singing." You heard the familiar grumble, "hello to you too, House." You turned around, he was wearing his leather jacket, which he looked too good in for his own good, grabbing his small blue backpack. You turned back around, washing the blue mug "doing dishes huh? I feel bad, no boyfriend to clutter your kitchen, you need to clean so badly that you even do so at work." He leaned against the side of the lounge couch. "You don't wash your infamous red mug?" You smirked, he scoffed "what else is Wilson supposed to do? Cure cancer? For all you people know I'm stopping him from cheating on his wife, again." You chuckled. Though you couldn't see, House slightly smiled from behind you.
Putting the cleaned mug back in the cupboard, House grabbed his black motorcycle helmet. The two of you walked out of the lounge, talking about his newest patient, sometimes, when House had a patient with lung problems he would come to you, you didn't know why, the man was smart enough to figure it out on his own but you didn't mind, you didn't want to admit to yourself, but you liked the excitement of working on a case with him, the atmosphere he sets, filled with adrenaline, the demands coming from him, reminding you that if you don't use your small brain now the patient's will stop working. But you could never do that job; you couldn't tell Foreman, Cameron, and Chase enough how their mentality was so strong that they could work for House for over two years now. You thought that they were born to work with him, because you can only be destined to do so to handle his work ethic so well.
Walking out in the cold air, you pulled your brown leather jacket tighter around you. House looked at you from the corner of his eye, strangely not saying anything. You grabbed your car keys, clicking the button to unlock your car, which didn't unlock it. "Car trouble?" He smirked despite himself. "Shut up." You sighed, trying again; this time it did unlock. You turned back, giving him your best smirk; he rolled his eyes. "It would have been more interesting if you couldn't get in; you would have had to walk home or spend the night at the hospital." He talked as you got in your car; you admit, it wasn't in the best condition. It was your eighteenth birthday present, but hey, it still works. Just as you thought that, turning the key, there was no response from the car; you tried two more times. "I should have gotten into the Fortune-teller buisness, probably would have been paid more." You rubbed your forehead; you were exhausted and definitely not in the mood for House's teasing and jokes. House looked around before looking down. "Come on, I'll take you home." Before you could process the information that he just gave you, he threw his helmet into your hands. "What about you?" You got up.p "I'm obviously going home on my bike?" He looked at you, confused. You shook your head. "I mean the helmet, what about you?" His face completely changed; you put Gregory House in an uncomfortable scene, someone caring for his well-being. "I'll be okay. You have people who actually care about you; if you did split your head open, if my head split open, there would probably be a national holiday." You slightly glared at him, not falling for his self-hating comment. You didn't want to admit that there was a good piece of truth in that sentence. "I wouldn't celebrate; I would start a revolution and take over the government." He slightly chuckled to himself before checking himself, "Do you want to go home, or do you prefer your office couch?"
Throwing himself on the bike, you followed his movement,putting on the helmet which was only slightly smaller on your head, you akwardly put you arms to the side "Uh-" Before you even finish your train of thought House grabbed your forearms, putting them around his waist. "I uh, I have never taken a ride on the motorcycle." You quietly said, your face extremely close to the back of his neck, House didn't want to admit but he enjoyed the warmness of your breath, it was a contrast to the cold of a September night. "That surprises me, you look like the type that had a boyfriend with a motorcycle in high school." You scoffed "I don't like guys with motorcycles, I hated the thaught of being driven of one." He smirked "yet, here you are, going on a motorcycle ride, on a Wednesday night, giving your life to the hands of a derranged addict." He said, putting on his gloves. You shook your head, even though he couldn't feel it "no, I trust you." House froze for a second, the annoying warm feeling hitting his chest again. "Right" He put on his sunglasses, to have at least some protection from the wind and dust.
Turning the bike's handlebars, the two doctors set off on the road. The pulmonologist immediately grabbed the diagnostician's waist tighter, practically hiding yourself and closing your eyes; he felt the reaction. "Open your eyes, I need you to tell me where you live." He said, obviously used to the speed and wind, "I-I..." You were slightly shaking, not sure if it was from the cold or the fear. "Come on, sweetheart, I need you to concentrate right now. Open your eyes." You shook your head, holding him even closer, causing him to gasp for air. "Do you want to kill us?!" You very slightly whimpered. "Sorry." You finally opened your eyes; mouth agape; it was so beautiful, the warmth of the streetlights, the air hitting your face, but not your eyes, thanks to his helmet, but one thing caught your attention the most: from the wind hitting them from forward, you could smell House; it sounded very strange when put like that, but it made your heart clench. He smelled like bourbon and wood; it was strong, probably sour for some, but to you it was comfort. Getting in the moment, you nuzzled the side of your head into House's back, looking at the cars passing by; it was the best calm you had experienced in over three weeks.
House felt the action; his cheeks would have probably gone flush. But the cold wind stopped the reaction; it wasn't like you could see anyway. "Sleeping beauty, where do I turn?" You were brought back to reality by his voice, the fuzzy feeling partly leaving your system. "Huh? Oh, take a left." You sat up straighter, still holding his waist. He nodded and followed the direction.
After a few minutes, you arrived. "That apartment building down at the corner." He nodded and stopped his bike, first getting up before taking your hand into his, helping you, then taking off his sunglasses. "You okay?" You nodded, slightly confused and surprised at his soft tone and expression. "Well, it was a core experience; I think I'm addicted." He smiled. "You were a good passenger when you finally calmed down." You laughed, looking down, fixing your hair after it had been in a helmet. "I think that's the nicest thing you have ever said to me." He smirked. "Don't get used to it."
"I won't, I'm not that naive."
The two of you were staring at each other, the air growing thick; you could feel your heart beating faster, and the sound of traffic around you went completely numb. Before the undeniable tension made the two of you do something that both of you regretted, you decided to break the tension, you took a step closer to him, you brought up your hand on his left cheek, before slowly bringing your lips to the right. The kiss was soft and probably too long by the usual standards, but it spoke what the two of you couldn't say with words.
You pulled away to see that his eyes were slightly widened, but it was an accomplishment to even do that, the wind throwing his hair to one side, you managed to catch the Gregory House off guard, but you weren't feeling like gloating, no you didn't care for his reputation as the cold and cinical man, sure, he was one, but there was something under that mask, and you were getting close to being lucky to see it to yourself.
"Good night." You smiled, your hand slowly leaving his chest, the cold of his leather jacket.
Gregory House spent the next six minutes standing outside your apartment, still not sure what happened, but he was sure that he wanted it to happen again,
Guess he's going to pay a visit to the mechanic tomorrow, huh?
Tags: @mydietdrkelpy @stertlingfit @xxangelcreamcupcakexx
