Title: Inevitability

Pairing: House/Cuddy

Rating: M (strong)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. House belongs to Fox. "Silver Springs" belongs to Fleetwood Mac.

Summary: Some things are just bound to happen.

It was nearing midnight and all of the offices on the fourth floor were darkened. Backlit only by the hanging crescent of a moon reflecting off the glass walls, Gregory House strummed his well-worn acoustic guitar in the half light and sang to a sea of empty air. His staccato baritone drifted out across the open text books and patient files spread haphazardly about the room.

"You could be my silver spring, blue-green colors flashing.
I would be your only dream. You're shining autumn, ocean crashing.
And does he tell you that you're pretty, and does he say that he loves you?
Baby, I don't want to know…"

His fingers felt out the next chord with a practiced ease, eyes shut against the empty room. His masculinized version of the lost love ballad keened across the open spaces around him, vibrating the clear borders of the room. The puzzle he had failed to solve in time tonight (or should he say the patient he had failed to save) had been blonde and traipsing and he felt the song choice only appropriate. The bridge began just as he caught the tapping of familiar heels approaching at the end of the hall.

"Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me
I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me"

She leaned against his doorframe as he continued to sing, sea colored eyes following his deft fingers pressing the taut strings against the fret board.

"I'll follow you down till the sound of my voice will haunt you"

He opened his eyes and locked them on her transfixed face, making sure she continued to watch him. The pause in the lyrics was palpable. He waited so long to continue she wasn't sure he was going to finish. And then:

"You'll never get away from the sound of the man that loves you"

He completed the song with slow, measured words and chords, dropping her gaze and focusing on his own hands. He strummed soft, improvised patterns as he wound the old guitar down. Even after the last note had resounded and dissipated into the suddenly heavy air he trailed his fingertips silently across the strings, waiting for her to speak.

"I'm sorry about your patient." She broke the delicate mood clumsily and regretted her attempt at consolation immediately, watching him shut himself off again and tense his grip on the neck of the guitar. Her fingers twisted around a dark curl of hair sympathetically and she bit her lip tersely, hoping she had not ruined the moment.

"Don't be. People die." House busied himself with fitting his guitar neatly back into its case, locking the metal clasps and sitting it upright against his overflowing desk. He stood without the help of his cane and began slamming the textbooks and journals shut and stacking them on the bookshelf behind him.

He was pushing her away, brushing her off, shutting her out. She didn't know what to say to reel him back in. "She most likely would have died regardless. The cancer was inoperable once you found it." She winced as she saw his light blue eyes turn steely and his spine snap straight. Wrong thing to say once again.

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" His tone was bitter and left no room for further argument. She was tired of putting her own foot in her mouth tonight so she stayed silent, awaiting his cue. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Want a drink?"

"Sure." And it was finally the right answer. The tension started to drain out of his shoulders as he headed for the bottle of bourbon he always kept on hand. Plastic cups emerged from an unseen drawer and he poured them both a hefty shot. "Sorry, no high ball glasses Princess," he jeered before downing the amber liquid in one burning gulp. He swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and shot a look of challenge at Cuddy.

With eyes locked she drank her two fingers of whiskey without a shudder, setting the empty cup down next to his with a smug grin. He smiled genuinely and poured another measure in both cups, taking his to the yellow lounge chair in the corner of the office.

Cuddy took a deep breath and picked hers up as well, following him to sit, legs crossed, on the ottoman in front of him. She lost herself in the rich flecks of gold and mahogany in the liquor, rimming the edge of the plastic cup with a manicured fingernail.

"Why are you here, Cuddy?" His deep voice startled her from her alcohol and she raised her blue eyes to meet his like-colored ones. His intense orbs caught her confused ones and held her like a deer in headlights. At the moment, her reason for coming to his office tonight escaped her and she gaped at him for a fitful moment before finding the truth and deciding to confess it.

"I heard the music from the elevator and followed it here." She wasn't sure why she felt so exposed after her innocent admission but she couldn't shake the feeling she had just given him the upper hand. She sipped her bourbon in silence and waited for the other shoe to drop.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" His cryptic question had her all mixed up again. She wasn't sure what he was playing at tonight but thought, for once, she would play along. Uncrossing and re-crossing her stocking clad legs she tipped the remainder of the sharp drink into her mouth and swallowed slowly.

"Yes." Her answer was hoarse with whiskey and something unidentifiable. He leaned forward into her personal space and she couldn't help but suck in a long breath full of his cologne, her eyes closing of their own accord. His knees were almost touching her, the proximity causing her chest to flush with heat. She held him inside her lungs for an aching minute until regretfully having to exhale. Afraid to open her eyes and find him gone she kept them shut and waited, a deep seated ache lying low in her abdomen.

"Cuddy…" Her name was breathed against her blushing face in a warm rush of air and she shuddered with the knowledge that his lips were only a hairsbreadth from her own. His thumb came up to trace the contours of her collarbone and her eyes snapped open, locking tightly with his. His pupils were dilated so much she found it difficult to make out the silvery sheen of his irises. His lips were parted and expectant and no matter the reasons that swam just out of reach of why they shouldn't be doing this she found she could no longer deny him.

She leaned forward before she could rationalize her way out of it and pressed their lips together in the darkness.