Author's Note: Grateful and I drank a lot of bourbon and decided to write a story. She's responsible for the original plot, I'm responsible for actually writing the story. We did a little gender-bending, so she came up with a lot of House's dialog and I wrote most of Cuddy's. It's a little softer than most of my stories but it's the holidays, so what the hell.
Thanks to Grateful for her help, and Happy Holidays, everyone, from both of us.
This story takes place some time before Rachel.
When House fell into a table and broke a glass, the sudden spear of pain through his arm definitely cleared his head for a moment. He mumbled a string of curses while he tried to stand, finding that his leg wasn't helping him any. His arm would not stop bleeding. It was clear that he was going to need stitches, and he was much closer to the hospital than home.
It was nearly three am anyway, and the twenty-four hour clinic usually emptied out some time between two and three, and didn't usually get busy again until sunrise. It was simple, he'd sneak in, clean and stitch his wound, and then go up to his office for a nap until he was a bit more sober.
When he arrived, the clinic was mostly empty, and he watched a mother and wailing toddler as he sneaked in. He went into exam three, it was seldom used overnight anyway, and slinked out of his leather jacket. The cut on his arm was worse than he thought as he pressed some gauze strips against it to try to stop the bleeding. After a few minutes, he was beginning to stitch.
The door flung open, and, on the other side, stood Cuddy and the night security guard. She turned to the guard, "I can handle this." As the guard left, she stomped over to House, her hands on her hips, "What in the hell are you doing?"
"This is called suturing," he patronized.
"This is not a self-serve clinic."
"Never mind what I'm doing here. What are you doing here? I thought Quigley had Sunday nights."
"She did. She quit."
House seemed to have some insight into the reasons why Quigley had quit, so he changed the subject, "That doesn't explain why you're working."
"I agreed to take the three-to-seven shift once a week through the new year while we get her replacement up to speed. It's usually pretty quiet in here anyway until closer to six, so I have time to get other things done."
She washed her hands and grabbed some bandages while he finished suturing. She approached and he complained, "Hell no, go away. I'm not paying for this visit."
"I'll log you as Mister Smith. And the clinic is still free, even for patients who act like asses. If you'd like to donate to our cause—'
"I'm not talking about medical costs, I'm talking about associated costs. Like favors."
She pulled his arm to her and retorted, "Shut up and hold still."
His arm was stretched out in front of him while she bandaged, and his hand was very close to her side. She stopped bandaging for a minute while she reached for the scissors. That was when he realized that the back of his knuckle was touching her stomach. Concerned that she might interpret his actions as affection, he flicked his finger against her, watching her react with irritation.
"Ouch. Why do you have to be such a jerk?" she asked while she roughly pushed his hand to the side and finished bandaging.
"Why are you so eager to doctor me?"
"I'm not. I was bored and thought I could help."
"You—are bored? When are you bored?"
"All of my work is in my office, I'm just trying to stay busy."
She dropped his hand when she was done and he pivoted his wrist. "Thanks," he growled as he stood.
His legs were unsteady at first, and Cuddy warned, "If you vomit in here, you clean it up. And if you vomit on me—you're the new overnight doctor in the clinic."
"Not feeling the best. Must be that thing that's going around."
"Right, I'm sure that's it."
House took two fumbling steps and Cuddy blocked his exit. She put her hand on his arm and turned him back to the exam table. "Okay, lie down."
"I'm not going to be your love toy."
"I was not looking for one," she replied. "In your current state I doubt you'd be helpful in that department anyway."
"I'm always helpful in every department."
"'Helpful' isn't exactly the word I'd use."
He was lying on his back on the exam table, closing his eyes to avoid the bright light above him. Thoughts of leaving seemed like too much work when he really just wanted to sleep for a few minutes before he had to move.
The next time he heard Cuddy, he felt a lot better. He woke to see an IV had been started, and the bag was empty. "Come on," she said when she turned the light back on. "You need to get out of here before morning shift starts. I called you a cab."
He sat up, his mouth so dry it was difficult to move his tongue. She pulled the needle from his arm quickly, pushing a cotton swab on the spot and affixing a band-aid on the tiny red mark left behind. He went to the sink, cupping some water in his hand that he brought to his mouth.
She was already on her way out the door when she turned back, "Let's not make a habit of this, okay?"
He nodded, grabbed his cane and went to his cab.
The next day his head hurt, but not nearly as much as it would have without Cuddy's intervention. He got on the elevator with Wilson and cringed when Cuddy joined them. He was waiting for her to say something about their overnight meeting or ask how he was feeling. Apart from quickly nodding a hello to them, she didn't say anything. She faced the front, busily attending to something on her phone. She stepped off the elevator without a peep. Before the doors closed again, Wilson asked, "Hey Cuddy, how was the overnight shift?"
She looked over her shoulder and answered, "Relatively uneventful."
She didn't bring it up at all.
House was more suspicious than appreciative, but Cuddy didn't approach him with any requests or demands. The following week, he was dealing with a difficult patient and went to seek Cuddy's approval. He walked into an exam room while she was with a patient.
House ignored the overweight, middle-aged man on the exam table. Cuddy wheeled around when the door opened, quickly dismissing the intruder. "It's not appendicitis," she said, reassuringly. "I think you have a stomach bug. We're seeing a lot of these symptoms this week."
"My patient needs scanned," House interrupted.
"Who's that?" Cuddy's patient asked.
"He's a doctor. He's going to wait quietly until we're done here to discuss any other patients he's concerned about," she told the man.
"I'm not going to wait quietly," House told the patient. He said to Cuddy, "My patient needs a scan, and she's convinced she's smarter than I am. Actually, she's convinced she's smarter than all of modern medicine. Maybe she can rub some flowers on her chakras and find a cure, but I need an actual scan."
"If your symptoms don't begin to improve within the next three or four days, or if they worsen, we can consider other possible causes," Cuddy told the patient, trying to ignore all of House's loud comments.
"I think you should scope him," House said, "This guy might be dealing with Schwanger's syndrome."
"What's that?" the patient asked, worriedly.
Cuddy interjected. "You have gastroenteritis—a stomach bug. Take a few days off work. Rest, stick to clear fluids, try to stay hydrated."
"I want a second opinion from him," the patient pointed at House.
House sneered, "My patient is actually dying. You're not. You have a stomach virus. Go home."
The patient stood, glowering at House before he left.
"My patient needs a CT scan. Is this line of conversation sounding familiar?" he asked, testily.
"Okay. You're authorized to do those in almost any circumstance imaginable, so why are you discussing this with me?"
"She's refusing."
"Why?" Cuddy asked while she made a few notations in a file.
"She's afraid it will damage her still unborn children."
"Not an uncommon concern."
"Perhaps I should clarify, they're unborn and still un-conceived. She's not pregnant. To be honest, I wouldn't hold my breath if I were her. Anyway, she's scared the CT is going to damage her ova. She said she fears birth defects. She reads some sort of new-aged mumbo jumbo crap."
"I'm sure you can persuade her. Maybe if you try not screaming at her, she might listen."
"I tried. She's completely irrational—so I thought you could talk to her, speak her language."
"I'm not irrational."
"Of course you aren't."
"Get Chase or Cameron to talk to her. They're good at that."
"I tried. She feels they're too inexperienced. I think, since you have a fancy title and ovaries, she might listen to you. At least you look like you have ovaries. What she doesn't know won't hurt her."
"I'm busy, work it out."
"I'll help you clear out your waiting room and we can go discuss this with Passion Moonbeam Sunshine and her potential spawn."
"Maybe you shouldn't try to persuade patients at five in the morning when they're trying to rest. Just a suggestion."
"It'll be six when we're done with your waiting room."
"Why are you even in here so early?"
"I'm not here early, I'm here late. I'm here because I care about what happens to Sunshine's eggs."
She scoffed, "Right. I'm sure you do."
"I'm too irritated to sleep. She needs a scan."
"You're working because you're irritated?" she asked. "I'll have to irritate you more often."
"I don't really think it's possible for you to irritate me more often than you do now. She's going to die."
Cuddy watched him dig into his thigh, and she realized that it must have really been bothering him.
She considered things for a minute and said, "Fine, but I need to finish my shift down here first."
"Ankle sprain," House whispered to Cuddy before the next man entered the room.
He was right. He also correctly diagnosed a sinus infection. Next a young couple walked into the exam room together. Before they came in, House guessed that the patients had STDs. The young woman cleared her throat and said, "We need a prescription for condoms."
"You don't need a prescription," Cuddy answered. "We have some here in the clinic if you're uncomfortable buying them, but any drug store and most grocery and convenience stores carry them."
"None of those work."
"They don't work in what way? They break?" Cuddy asked.
"They're too small."
House paid attention, a bit less disinterested, and high-fived the uncomfortable looking young man who still hadn't spoken. "You do know they sell large and extra-large ones."
"We tried them," the female patient answered. "They're still too small."
Cuddy and House both stared at first until House asked, "Are you putting them on the wrong head?"
"We know where they go," the young woman answered.
"I'm not asking you—I'm asking him."
The young man finally spoke, "They're long enough, they're too tight around."
Cuddy looked at House, her eyes wide, "Maybe you want to take him into exam two and do a quick exam."
The male patient shook his head and finally said, "They're just too tight on my nuts."
Cuddy rubbed her finger along her upper lip, trying to hide a near smile. House leaned forward, smirking, "They're too tight on your nuts?"
"My testicles."
"I know what nuts are. I just can't figure out why you'd want to shove them into a condom."
"Isn't that what—you know—keeps it on? It's not like they come with instructions."
"They do come with instructions. Were you both absent for the sex ed portion of health class every single year they taught it?"
"We go to St. Margaret's," the female patient answered, "they don't teach sex ed."
"And since you're not dead, abstinence doesn't work for you?"
Cuddy interrupted, "Dr. House can show you how to put one on properly."
"I'm not even working," House argued, "you show 'em."
The male patient reached for his belt and Cuddy held up a hand, "Not on you. We have a model."
Cuddy demonstrated how to use a condom and spoke to both of the patients about getting tested and receiving proper medical care. When she suggested they both get tested for STDs prior to engaging in sexual activity, House commented, "For the first time in my entire medical career, I believe these two when they say they're virgins."
Cuddy spoke to the young woman privately for a minute to give her a list of local doctors who could provide ongoing care, and, when she looked up, House was discussing something with the other patient. Cuddy went back into the exam room, and when House returned to the room, he said, "Your waiting room is empty, now go talk to my patient and tell her I'm right."
House was rubbing his leg as he looked at the time.
"What did you say to him?" Cuddy asked. "I saw you talking to our patient in the waiting room."
"I told him to make sure not to cuddle when they're done or she might expect it every time. Don't set high expectations."
Cuddy pressed her lips together and did paperwork until House said, "I gave him some advice. I know how much he likes sticking his nuts in things, so I wanted to make sure he didn't assume he had to get them in her."
She smiled and nodded, unrolling the condom she'd used on the model and tossing it in the trash.
"Seems a shame to waste it," House mentioned.
"You want to save it for later?"
"I don't know, I watched you put it on and felt jealous of the dildo."
She smiled until she realized how much his leg was hurting, "Do you want me to look at that?"
"My penis? Look at it, don't look at it. You're the one putting on the condom, so it's up to you."
"I meant your leg."
He looked away, irritated that she was seeing the pain that he thought was hidden. "Looking at it isn't going to do any good."
"Are you having trouble sleeping?"
"I always have trouble sleeping."
Cuddy asked the nurse to watch the clinic while she went to talk to House's patient. Cuddy was able to convince the woman that any perceived risks were outweighed by the benefits of diagnosing her condition. House didn't seem happy though, the pain was getting to him.
Cuddy took him to one of the empty rooms. "Do you need something? I can give you a nerve block injection."
"What do you want in return?"
"For you to be in less pain."
"Feeling guilty?"
"Does it matter? If you're in pain and I can help you feel better, who cares why I'm offering?"
She started to give him the injection. It took some time because she had to be particularly careful with spinal injections.
"A successful night in the clinic," he said while she prepped. "I'll be in less pain, and I'm guessing that by now, your two virgin patients are less virginal, at least one of them is post orgasmic, but we both know which one that is."
"Maybe he's considerate," Cuddy answered.
"Was your first considerate?"
She laughed, "No."
"Women think it's easy for guys, but it's awkward and I think most people feel like failures the first time."
"Did you feel like a failure?"
"Me? No. I was amazing, she still writes me."
"Right," Cuddy dragged out, disbelievingly.
"So you didn't have multiples your first time? He musta been a loser."
"Hold still," she said, starting the injection. She started talking, slowly, because she was paying attention to the procedure. "My first time lasted long enough to hurt. The guy, who was also a virgin, finished after a few seconds and then ran off, literally. He left me lying there on the floor of his bedroom. Definitely not my fondest memory. Made me wonder what all the fuss was about. It's funny that sex clouds your head enough to make you want to try it again, even if the first time is a huge disappointment. Fortunately things get a hell of a lot better. Injection's finished. Lie still."
His eyes closed as he relaxed. Her honesty and the dampening of his pain lowered his tension, so he confessed, "My very first time I came after about ten seconds. I thought sex was the best thing ever, until I heard my girlfriend crying. Kinda ruined the fun."
Cuddy was stunned by his confession. "Probably happens a lot."
"Well, at least I didn't run off. I figured she deserved some fun, too. Great decision, because in return, she was nice enough to let my first time become my second and third times. Probably my first fifty times. Repaying the favor is like investing in the future."
She patted his shoulder, "Young love."
"Until my family moved. I ran away to see her and she had someone new. Stan somebody."
"How are you feeling?" she asked, sitting with him.
"Better."
"Rest here until it wears off. I'll set up your patient's scan for you."
"Cameron will do it. Did you let the runner come back and try again?" he asked. She hesitated, so House said, "I told you I blew my load after a few seconds and about Stan and you're gonna hold out on me?"
"I did not have sex with him again. In fact, I vowed that I was going to wait until I got married—at least for actual sex. Messing around—well, I'm no angel."
"How long did that vow of almost chastity last?"
"About four months."
"And the second guy was better?"
"Oh God, yes. He was sweet. And a little more experienced."
"Was his name Stan? I hate Stan."
Cuddy weighed the possibilities and said, "I'll tell you, but—"
"My lips are sealed."
"I went to a party on Christmas Eve and had sex with Santa."
He stared at her with horny awe, "I think that automatically makes you no-longer-Jewish. That's so bad it might make your entire family no-longer-Jewish."
"I didn't exactly run home and tell them."
"I didn't realize you liked men who were that much older."
"He wasn't that much older. My best friend, who was not Jewish, had an older sister who was home from college. I snuck out after my parents were asleep and went to her party. Santa was an athletic, gorgeous college sophomore named Tim. He was not an elderly, overweight elf."
"So Santa was good in the sack?"
She nodded, "He was. So I have a slight fondness for Christmas Eve."
"Not Christmas Day? That's where you draw the line?"
"Well, I climbed through my window very early on Christmas morning, and found my father. He was sitting at my desk, reading a book. He said 'so many people wait for Santa to come down their chimneys on Christmas morning. I suppose we Jews wait for our eldest daughters to come through their bedroom windows.'"
"What brilliant cover did you come up with?"
"What was the point? The red hat was sticking out of my coat and I wasn't exactly dressed like I had been studying or helping the destitute. My father is not stupid."
House yawned, "He must have been devastated when he found out you were dating Santa."
"I didn't date Santa," she said, looking at the injection sight one more time before she pulled down his shirt.
"Bit his head off when you were done?"
Cuddy smiled, her eyes threatening to return his banter, but she shrugged instead and said, "There might be some truth to that rumor. I didn't see him again. Now stay still, take it easy. Sleep before it wears off. I'll follow up with your team, make sure they start the testing for your patient."
When House woke, Wilson was sitting in the room, working on files. The nerve blockers she'd given House were wearing off.
"Where's Cuddy?" he asked.
"How should I know?" Wilson answered. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine. She wasn't here?"
"Cuddy? No. She asked me to wait for you to wake up, to make sure you don't fall over, and see if you want a ride home."
"She had something important to do?"
"I said I don't know. She asked me to check on you and because she knew you wouldn't want to wake up and find her sitting here. You want to call her?"
"Why would I want to call her?"
Of course when he saw her the next day, she acted like everything was normal again. She yelled at him for something he had forgotten to turn in on time, and did her work like they didn't share secrets the night before. He was certain that he should have been happy that she wasn't making a big deal out of it. That would have annoyed him. He didn't want her to pretend like nothing had happened either.
He didn't come in the following two weeks while she worked overnight. A couple of days before Christmas, House was in her office arguing about his clinic hours. He was losing the fight, and then he asked while he leaned down low in the chair, "Are you still working the overnight on Christmas Eve?"
She sighed, "Yes. I'm glad the days of overnight shifts are almost behind me."
"Have any Christmas Eve plans?" he smirked. "Maybe you're hoping Santa will take a nasty fall and wander into your clinic."
She clicked her tongue, "I thought you were being way too decent about that. I actually thought maybe you'd forgotten."
"What?" he feigned innocence. "I was just asking if you had any plans. You seem awfully defensive."
"Just work. I'm working, that's it."
"After work, if you want to keep up with your Jewish Christmas tradition, you could climb through my bedroom window."
Cuddy smirked, scowling a little, but flirtatiously, "Go do what I'm paying you to do."
Later that day, she opened a folder on her desk. Inside the folder was a picture of a Santa on a beach. This Santa was wearing a tiny red bathing suit, traditional black boots and a hat while he watched bikini-clad women walk in front of him. A note was written along the bottom of the picture in House's irritating handwriting: "Turned on?"
They next day, she went to find him in his office. House's entire team was with him. "McGowan is out sick. I need you in the clinic," she said, demandingly.
He sat back, sucking on the hook of a miniature candy cane and staring at her.
"Do you have a response?" Cuddy asked.
House shrugged, slowly pulling the candy cane out of his mouth, considering an answer, and he said, "Do you have a less annoying demand?"
He curled the tip of his tongue around the end of the candy cane again and waited.
"McGowan is sick. I need a doctor in the clinic."
"I didn't make him sick."
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
The team looked at her and she ordered, "The three of you seem to have time on your hands. Go to the clinic."
They all simultaneously turned to House, and he signaled for them to leave. When they were gone, he asked, "Is something wrong? Your breath seems shallow, pupils are dilated. I really didn't realize it was that cold in here because your nip—"
"I should have known better than to trust you."
"How have I broken your trust?"
"These little—comments."
"I always make little comments."
"You said you wouldn't say anything—"
"About?"
The look of innocence was making her so angry, "About what I told you the night I gave you the spinal injection."
"I haven't," he interrupted. "I have not said a thing to anyone. Maybe you're paranoid, or, more accurately, defensive. Is this about the picture?"
"Yes it's about the picture. It's about everything: the picture, the candy cane, the personal references."
"The candy cane? Wilson's giving them out and it's almost Christmas. It's hardly a conspiracy."
"Fine, what about the picture?"
"Cuddy, I didn't say anything to anyone except you. It's an inside joke that only you and I get. Well, you and I and a guy you met at a Christmas party once, but, for now, between you and me. I figured you'd push back, make fun of my control or lack thereof."
"Why would you want me to make fun of you for that?"
"First of all, taunting each other is fun. Secondly—I'm not really that insecure about it since I've made pretty impressive improvements over the years. I could offer you a demonstration if you don't believe me. "
Cuddy stared forward, slowly opening her mouth after a long silence to speak, and muttering, "I'm being paged."
"You are?"
"I have to go. I have a lot to do," she started to leave and said, "I'd ask for your help, but I'm afraid you'd only be useful for ten seconds at a time."
He smirked, approving of her tentative jab, and answering, "See—it's fun."
She wrinkled her nose and replied, "I think I could do better."
"Probably, but it was decent first effort."
Her smile was unmistakably proud and flirtatious before she swung around and sauntered confidently down the hall. They traded little jabs over the next few days, it was fun and made the work day more entertaining.
On Christmas Eve, Cuddy reported to the clinic to work her shift. The emergency room was busy that night, but after three am, the clinic was empty. It seemed people didn't want to venture out unless there was a true emergency. The nurse on duty that night in the clinic was a young mother eager to get home to her children. Cuddy started organizing supplies because she was so bored. She went out to send the nurse home, and found the young woman was already gone. Sitting on top of the counter in the center of the clinic was House.
Cuddy asked, "Where's Nurse Dara?"
"I sent her home. She was wasting hospital funds. I'm not here to discuss hospital issues though."
"This'll be good."
House stretched, his jacket opening to reveal a tee shirt printed like a Santa suit.
She shook her head and asked, "Is this your idea of making a pass at me?"
"What do you mean?"
Cuddy continued her paperwork and said, "You can't even come up with a decent line? I mean, the very least you could do is wear the hat. Put a little effort into—," she stalled when she looked up, finding the hat was already on his head. The white furry parts of the hat had been replaced with black furry parts, but it was definitely the right kind of hat.
"I'm not making a pass. But if I were to do such a thing, I already have the perfect line."
"I can't wait to hear it."
He smiled cockily, "Hey."
"Hey?"
"That's my line. Trust me, it would work, if I chose to use it, which clearly I'm not."
"How is that clear? You show up here on Christmas Eve, wearing that tee shirt and hat."
"Me and thousands of other people. You think everyone who wears a Christmas tee shirt and hat on Christmas Eve is making a pass at you? The Egotists Club called, they'd like to nominate you for president. Which is impressive, because usually they only nominate themselves."
"So I guess I've completely misread this? Then why are you here? I know you don't have a case, you were off yesterday and you're off tomorrow. I didn't call you in, so why are you here?"
"I needed your help. I can't remember how to put a condom on, and I remembered that you were really good at it."
"Too bad you weren't making a pass. You look kinda hot like that."
"Ah ha!" House shouted. "You're a freak."
Cuddy smiled, "Maybe a little."
A woman with three crying children walked into the clinic and Cuddy smiled, regretfully, "It's been fun, but time to work. Have a nice Christmas."
In the morning she was ready to leave when the next shift came in, but she saw the young man who'd had problems with condoms, the same man she and House had advised. She was worried that something had gone wrong, and a bit curious about what had brought him back, so she grabbed his file and directed him to an open exam room.
"What brings you in, David?" Cuddy asked.
"I have a really bad cold and my ear hurts so bad that I can't sleep. I think I need antibiotics."
Cuddy examined him, quickly diagnosing an ear infection. As she was finishing up, she went to the door, and then asked, "If you don't mind me asking, what did Dr. House tell you before you left here last time?"
The patient blushed and looked away, so Cuddy quickly said, "I shouldn't have asked. I was just curious. Have a good night. Enjoy the holidays."
"It's okay," David answered. "He said—'no matter how much of a waste of time it seems like, don't skimp out on the foreplay. It's not always fun for them the first time so warm-ups are a good idea' and 'if you want to keep that particular woman, remember: orgasms for them aren't really optional.'"
"He said that?"
"It was good advice. And he told me to make sure I wrap it every single time, because the world doesn't need more people who can't figure out how to read the instructions on a box of condoms."
Cuddy tilted her head at piece of advice that sounded exactly like what she was sure he had said.
When Cuddy was finished with her shift, she saw House's hat sitting on the counter. She was exhausted, ready to go home, but some part of her wanted to deliver the hat to House. She was more touched by what House had said to the young man than she wanted to admit. After years of misanthropy and pain, part of House still remembered being young and inexperienced. He probably still remembered the fondness he'd had for his first. She wanted to be near the man who'd given that advice.
She drove over to his apartment, banging on the door a few times before she realized that he wasn't going to answer. She decided to leave, so she hung the hat on the doorknob when she was startled by a voice behind her that simply said, "Hey."
Spinning around, she found herself a foot away from House. They both had equally confident looks on their faces. "Where were you?" she asked, harboring a suspicious feeling that he had just come from her place.
He didn't answer.
"You were looking for me, weren't you?" she asked as she picked the hat back up and held it in her hands.
He moved closer, reaching an arm out. She could feel her pulse throbbing in her neck until she realized that he was reaching past her to unlock his door.
Her face looked visibly uncomfortable, like she'd made a huge mistake by going to see him. When she spoke, her voice came out steady in spite of her own awkwardness, "You—you forgot your hat. I wanted to drop it off."
She held it out to him, watching him stare at her offering without an answer. He stepped sideways past her into his apartment. Her hand lowered to her side, even more fully regretting her decision to show. When she saw him reach out, his hand open, he gestured impatiently for her to turn over the hat.
She sighed, holding out the item and preparing her goodbye, and then she felt his fingers wrap around her wrist instead of taking the hat. He didn't pull her, he simply held onto her wrist and wordlessly invited her inside. She was standing inside, looking around his apartment, wondering when he was finally going to break the silence. He leaned on the desk in his living room.
"That patient was back. You know, the guy who likes to put his testicles in things," she continued.
House kept watching her. He wasn't ignoring her, he was paying way too much fucking attention to her, but he still didn't answer.
"He said you gave good advice," she continued, talking to prevent the dead air. "He just had an ear infection, so I'm assuming his testicles are fine."
She waited for House to react to the joke. His eyes sort of laughed. He was amused and so totally relaxed that she thought she'd lose her mind.
There seemed nothing else that could be said. She approached as casually as possible, reached up with both hands and put the hat on him. She rested her hands on her hips, regarding him with approval, and said, "I guess the fun is over. Christmas Eve is done, and I should go home."
"I grew up celebrating Christmas, so I have a lot of inside information. I know that Christmas Eve is just a lame ass warm-up for Christmas Day. Christmas Day is when the fun happens. That's when you open everything up—and see if you got what you wanted," he finally answered.
"So that's how it works." She looked around the room, "Looks like Santa didn't leave you any presents. You must have been really bad."
He smirked while she stared at the mischievous smile that always made her want to throttle him and jump him at the same time. In a moment of impulse, she took his hands, lifting them to the bottom button on her shirt. The cocky smile on his face was gone and replaced by the look of a man searching for an answer. He kept his hands there, one of his fingers flicking the button.
It seemed like they were waiting forever, and she asked, "Are you going to open it?"
Without missing a beat, he popped open that bottom button and waited for her to react poorly. When she didn't stop him, he opened the next button, and the next one. He opened the lower part of her shirt and put his hands against her skin, letting his fingers stretch onto her sides. His thumbs brushed her stomach. His hesitation existed on many levels. He wasn't sure if it was a test, or if she was going to back out if he called her bluff, and he had no idea what was going to happen if he opened the present that had walked into his living room. He knew he wanted that present. He wanted it in spite of the risks, the questions and the unknowns.
She still didn't leave or pull away, she stood there while his hands touched her almost bare stomach. He stared at her when he opened the very last button and the shirt was undone. His fingers followed the opening of the shirt to the top, parting it like curtains until most of the front of her torso was exposed, but the shirt was still on her shoulders. She shrugged out of her shirt, letting it fall as she said, "It's hard to tell if it's what you want if you're just going to peek under the wrapping."
He cupped her breast over her bra while he looked at her body. He saw the way her pants hung from her hips, the smooth curves of her body that were exposed. His thumb moved over her nipple, feeling her body respond to him. Still waiting for a rejection, he reached behind her and unclasped her bra. His face was near hers while he tested the limits of her permissiveness. When he pulled the bra away, his eyes left her face as if he had no choice. He studied her body, her full breasts in front of him, pleading to be touched. Further testing the boundaries, his hands moved over her body until he held both of her breasts in his hands. Even though she'd set the stage, he was still surprised that she hadn't slapped him.
There was no mistaking the desire in her eyes or in the way that she breathed raggedly. She spoke, her voice sensual and raspy, "So are we both supposed to unwrap our things, or do I have to wait until you're finished before I can start?"
His expression was entirely inscrutable for several painfully tense seconds and then he said, his voice as lusty as hers, "I don't think you actually want yours."
She reached under his shirt, caressing up his abdomen and brushing her fingers over his chest. She was unable to stop herself from answering, "I'm pretty sure I do."
Cuddy pulled his shirt over his head, seeming more certain than he was, mostly because she couldn't approach him any other way. If either of them capitulated or hesitated, it would be over. Her fingers scratched down his chest to the top of his belt before she shoved three fingers between his jeans and his abdomen. The knuckles of those three fingers were behind his belt and she pulled his hips front. The confident way she pulled the length of leather strap out from his belt buckle was her own answer to the question of whether or not she wanted what was in front her.
His belt was open, the two ends hanging to the sides, and it was his move, his chance to further open the package in front of him. He reached behind her, his arms winding around her waist to the tiny, delicate zipper at the back of her pants. He was trying to release the clasp above the zipper as she stood, encircled by his arms. She turned to the side to look at him, their faces not even an inch apart. She was distracted by the concept of their lips meeting when she felt her pants drift down her legs to the floor.
He let go of her, sitting back on the desk, his hands braced on the edge while he looked at everything he'd unwrapped. She thought fleetingly of the fact that he looked sort of numb as he sat there, his genius mind disconnected, silenced by her almost naked body.
She didn't allow much time for admiration while she opened his zipper. He pushed his hands down on the desk to lift up so she could pull the jeans away. He swung forward, moving down from the desk. He approached her again, so close to a kiss again, but before their lips met he said, "Growing up, I would open everything and then I'd take my favorite toys to my room."
He took a step back, hooking his finger under the lacy band of her panties and bringing her along. They walked slowly but with complete wanting to his bedroom, both dressed only in their underwear.
House's bed was an unmade mass of sheets and blankets, one end of the fitted sheet unhooked from the corner of the mattress. He flopped back, pulling her up his body. She was sitting just below his ribs, her knees at his sides on the bed. His hands followed her thighs until his thumbs reached her sex. His slipped under the her panties from either side, deciding that hesitation be damned, Cuddy was in his apartment on Christmas morning, almost completely naked, and he'd have to be insane to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. Instead he let his fingers slip through her soaked, exposed sex.
She wasn't stopping him, she moved her hips so he could reach her better. His one thumb slid along her body until it found her waiting opening, pushing into her inviting body. His hands worked as a coordinated pair, making Cuddy frantic with desire. She leaned back, reaching behind her body so she could touch his thick, waiting cock. Her nails scraped seductively along his skin, getting closer and closer to where he needed her to be. When her hands both finally surrounded his dick, he wondered if he'd ever anticipated a touch more than that one. As her hands moved with the perfect amount of pressure and drag, he knew without a doubt it was worth the wait.
The way his eyes glazed and his eyelids momentarily hooded showed her exactly how fucking turned on he was. She let go of his package when she realized how close they were both coming to climax, although they were hindered by the irritating presence of underwear. She managed, somehow, to dispatch of his boxers.
His hand yanked her lacy thong to the side while she moved down his body. He was jutting toward her entrance, both of them hot, bothered and ready. There was no need to ask for consent as it was clearly given. She was lining up their bodies and his hands went to the tops of her thighs to encourage her onto him. As soon as she let the head of his cock penetrate her body, he started to move. He went into her immediately, seeking and finding the welcoming depths of her body. With a careful pace at first, they joined.
She put her hands on the front of his shoulders, holding him down while she rode him. Her hips moved delicately as she became used to him, writhing subtly against him until she could handle more. Her lips were parted, the red swollen flesh begging to be tasted. In spite of the weight she put on his shoulders, he used his hands to lift his upper body from the bed. While her eyes were still closed, he met her lips with a forceful kiss. He went to her fully, finding her lips and tongue, even the textured roof of her mouth, delving deeply into the kiss. He felt her suck on the tip of his tongue as it slipped from her mouth. It was as if she wanted to keep as much of him inside her as possible.
Her hands went to his face, neck and shoulders while she continued to pulse over him, taking him repeatedly into her.
There was a melding of pants and sounds of delight that emerged from their mouths. The kiss collapsed into lips that touched because they were there or tongues that occasionally darted out to sample what was in front of them. She practically shrieked when she started to cum, her hands moving to his shoulders so she could keep moving. He liked how she took what she wanted, and, God, he wanted to be the one to give it to her.
She looked so beautiful with her gorgeous feminine mouth, her facial expression demonstrating how consumed she was by the overwhelming desire. He wanted nothing more than to be there with her, at that point of bliss beyond conscious control. There was no choice but to join to her.
Their muscles were loose and skin sweaty as she slumped down on top of him, his hands moving to her ass to keep her rocking against him while they allowed the fading throbs of pleasure to ease to sporadic pulses, chasing those last few sensations before they were done.
He nudged her face to his with a quick kiss of appreciation. "Happy Birthday," he whispered.
"It's not even near my birthday," she smiled.
"Is it my birthday?"
She grinned, pushing her nose against his jaw, "It's Christmas. Remember, you were teaching me. We were sharing an inter-cultural moment."
"I love inter-culture."
"You know—later today my family is coming to my place for our own December 25th tradition."
"You lied about your lack of knowledge about this sacred day to get into my pants?" he pretended to be scandalized.
"I didn't lie. We don't celebrate Christmas. On the 25th, no one has to work, almost everything is closed for the day. Dad buys a feast from this little restaurant, he's known the owner for years. We watch movies and eat. It's really informal, one of the most relaxing days of the year."
"You celebrate non-Christmas?"
"My mom's family wasn't Jewish, so neither were my cousins on her side. I think my parents felt they had to have something fun for us to do while our cousins were opening presents with the grandparents. Christmas was always sort of a touchy subject, at least with Mom."
House rolled onto his side, pulling her leg over him. She started moving her hips against him again. "Can you give a guy a few minutes before expecting more?" he smirked. "You somehow seem even more demanding than you usually are at work."
"I want to make sure I really understand this whole thing. The key is repetition. There's no rush, I have a few hours. Unless you have plans?"
"No plans."
She was still touching him. She was sexiness in physical form, and watching her already had him considering more. They were making out in his bed, spending time while his body recuperated and enjoying the feeling of each other. They were, strangely enough, more comfortable naked together in bed than they were most anywhere else.
"You know," she whispered, "If you really want to make it inter-cultural, you could come over to my place for Merry Jewish non-Christmas. See how the other half lives."
He didn't answer immediately, both because his brain was more occupied by the thoughts of what he wanted to do to her next and because he was surprised by the offer. When he didn't answer, she pulled back, the smile fading from her face. She went into damage control mode, recoiling before he could strike. "I was joking, I'd never invite you to a family thing. I know how you feel about that stuff," she tried to recover, "and I forgot that I have some things I have to do before my family comes. I better go."
"What happened to no rush and the whole repetition thing?"
"Thanks," she said, standing, covering herself with one of his displaced blankets. "Can I use your bathroom?"
"No," he sarcastically countered, "you can have sex with me, but you can't use my indoor plumbing."
She smiled and disappeared to dress and get ready to leave. When she went to the front door, House was standing there in his boxers.
"That was fun," she said with a clearly given smile.
"You don't have things to do before they show up. That was a lie," he argued.
"I'm gonna go. Honestly, thanks. I had a great time."
He opened his mouth to speak, but she quickly offered a kiss and was out the door. He stood in his echoing apartment, trying to sort it all out.
Later that day, Cuddy was in the dining room, her family filling her home. She was playing cards with her mother and sister as they drank wine and chatted. She didn't feel taken advantage of by House. She'd made the move, she'd instigated what had happened between them. The sex was phenomenal, the perfect blend of passion, skill and well-matched partners. The only regret she had was losing her head after it was over. She was angry with herself for inviting him to her home, for letting her guard down and assuming that sex might mean something more than sex. She wasn't the type to over-romanticize sex.
Cuddy could hear her father laugh from the next room, and her niece came to break up the card game. "Are we gonna watch the movie? 'Cause your friend James is here."
Cuddy had told her family that Wilson was invited. Cuddy's mother asked after peeking into the living room, "Did he have an accident?"
"Wilson? Not that I know of. Why would you ask that?"
"He carries a cane."
Cuddy looked up, listened to the voices in the next room. She heard her father engaged in a very opinionated and spirited discussion and decided it was best to investigate. In the living room, she saw one of the most confusing sights. House and her father were talking. It sounded more like they were arguing, but it was obviously about something in the field of medicine. House delivered a sharp counter-point, and the old man laughed and slapped House's arm in a strangely friendly way. Whatever the debate had been, her father liked the smart-assed comment he'd received.
Her father turned and said to Cuddy, "James should come around more often."
"I'm not Wilson," House shook his head. "I'm Greg House."
While her father was looking at her, House added, raising an eyebrow at Cuddy, "I work under your daughter."
Her father turned back to House and extended a hand. House considered it, like he considered all handshakes before accepting them, and decided he liked the old man enough.
"You like working for her? I would think she'd be pretty tough sometimes. She has very high expectations."
House nodded, "It's the best position I've ever held. She is firm, but she has a softer side. And she really knows how to meet the needs of her employees."
Cuddy was scowling at House from behind her father's back.
"We should start the movie," Cuddy said quickly, hoping to stop the conversation before something terrible happened.
She had no idea what he was going to do or say. Cuddy watched while her father led House to the kitchen. They filled plates, continuing the debate from earlier. Cuddy and her father both seldom shied from debate, and the older man wasn't at all intimidated by House.
While they talked, Cuddy was nervously walking through her home, doing things that needed done because she didn't know what else to do. Her mother called for her, and when Cuddy went to join everyone in the living room, she found House, sitting on the sofa and paying ample attention to his plate. They looked at each other across the space as she wondered what in the hell was going on. Her mother's voice loudly chimed, "Lisa, dear, can you sit down? Everyone else is ready."
Cuddy looked around for a spot until she saw House shift over on the sofa. He nodded to her and to the space next to him. She navigated past children who were lying on the floor and took the spot next to him.
Their bodies were touching, there was no choice because there was so little space available. He held his plate out to her when the movie started. It was an offer to share that she doubted was genuine, but he didn't pull it away.
When he was done eating, he put his feet up on the coffee table and sank comfortably into the sofa.
He crossed his arms, seeing Cuddy's tense expression next to him as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. His fingers reached out from under his crossed arm and he touched her side, moving slowly upward to the side of her breast. Everyone was paying attention to the movie, and his actions were hidden by his body and the dimply lit room. She turned to him, wordlessly asking what in the hell he was doing. He answered, quietly, "You invited me here, but didn't wait for my answer."
"I was saving you the trouble of answering."
"You have a lot more to learn about patience than you needed to learn about Christmas. I'd be happy to help you with that, by the way. Any question you ask at a time like that has to travel the whole way down south before returning north to the brain for processing. I was preoccupied."
"Shh," Cuddy's mother hissed.
They didn't speak for a while. When he finally did, he whispered into Cuddy's ear, "I liked what I opened this morning, if you were wondering. You're remarkably good at gifting."
Still looking ahead, but smirking, she whispered back, "So are you."
"Any chance we could have an inter-cultural exchange for New Year's? We could discuss our traditions and I could give you one of those lessons in patience that I mentioned."
Her eyes settled on his lips as he asked and then she looked into his eyes. She tossed the thought around in her mind before she said, "New Year's Eve is supposed to be my last night in the clinic."
"So come over New Year's Day after your shift. We both know that eves are boring, and the real fun happens on the actual holiday."
"True."
"Or, for once, take advantage of the fact that you're the fucking dean. There has to be at least a dozen doctors who are so desperate to kiss your ass that they'll take that shift for you."
A flirty smirk could be found on her face if he looked closely enough. Finally she caved, "Sounds fun."
-The End-