Was there anything sexier than Lisa Cuddy doing yoga?
That's what House was thinking as he watched his girlfriend fold her body into another gravity-defying pose. She looked so serene, so womanly, so . . . bendable.
He knew he wasn't supposed to bother her. She was in a meditative state or an om-state, or some other New Age bullshit state, but damn the woman looked hot.
So he crept behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, jarring her from her trance.
"House!" she shouted, annoyed.
"What?" he said innocently, bending with her, kissing the back of her neck.
"We talked about this already. Yoga time is Cuddy time."
"If the yogis didn't want to turn me on, they shouldn't have named their pose after a sexual position."
"It's downward facing dog, House. Not doggie style."
"Oh."
He went to kiss her again, and she squirmed away.
"Seriously House, can't I go, like, 5 minutes without you groping me?"
He dropped his hands from her waist, hurt.
"Me groping you? What about you groping me? I'm not a piece of man meat, you know! I have feelings."
Cuddy smirked. "Please House. I think we both know who's the groper and who's the gropee in this relationship."
"Only because a precedent has been set. If I stopped groping you, you'd be begging for it in a matter of days."
Cuddy raised her leg over her head in another impossible pose and chuckled.
"Really, House?"
"Yeah, really."
"Care to put a wager on that?"
He squinted at her, slightly alarmed, slightly intrigued.
"What do you have in mind?"
"Simple. I bet that you will make a move on me before I make a move on you," Cuddy said.
"Define move."
"Any kissing below the lips, any sexual touching."
"So if I touch your ass like this"—he gave her backside a little pat—"that's considered. . ."
"Sexual touching," she said.
"Huh," he said. "And when I win, what do I get?"
She dropped her leg from the pose and gave a slightly dirty smile. "What do you want?"
"To ravage you in any way I desire, of course," he said.
She wrinkled her nose. "Don't you kind of do that already?"
"Oh, my naïve, naïve girl. I can think of so many exciting and new ways to ravage you that you've never even dreamed of."
"Fine. Ravage away, Romeo. It's irrelevant, cause I'm winning this bet. This is like taking candy from a baby."
"And on the extremely off chance that you win, what do you get? Wait, let me guess"—he yawned broadly—"clinic hours."
"I was thinking more like babysitting. One night a week, for 2 months."
He folded his arms, glared at her.
"Fine," he said.
"Fine," she shot back. "Oh, and no retreating to your apartment to hide from me. We stay here and sleep in the same bed."
"Sleep in the same bed?" House groaned. "That's a little excessive, isn't it?"
"I've heard tell of married couples who go weeks, even months, without having sex."
"One of the many reasons we're not married," House said, grinning.
She went to swat the side of his head, but he ducked it.
"So, are you chickening out or what?" she said.
House thought about it, and finally held out his hand to shake.
"Gregory House fears no woman and no sex bet."
"Good," she said. She pulled open the waistband of his pajama bottoms, and snapped them shut.
"Because the bet starts . . .now."
"Wilson, what do I need to do to make Cuddy want to jump my bones?"
House put his feet on Wilson's office coffee table, took a cherry lollypop out of his pocket and began to unwrap it.
"Cuddy getting that one-year itch?" Wilson said, looking inordinately pleased that his friend's much-bragged-about sex life had finally hit a bump in the road.
"No, we still do it like rabbits," House said, yawning. "Except we have this ridiculous bet."
"A bet?"
"Who can go longer without making a pass at the other."
"Oh, House," Wilson shook his head. "You moron."
"I am a man of great self control," House said. He took the wrapper and threw it in the general direction of the trash can. It floated several feet shy of its target.
"House, you can't even wait in line at the cafeteria," Wilson said, looking put-upon as he got up, retrieved the wrapper, and put it in the trash.
"But I don't lose bets," House said. He stuck the lollypop in his mouth. "Are you going to help me or what?"
"Hmmmm. What will make Cuddy want to jump your bones? I assume roofies are out of the question?"
"Wouldn't be sportsman-like," House said. His voice suggested that he had already considered it.
"Well, I'm sure this is going to wreak havoc with your caveman view of the world, but I've always found that women desire me when I, you know, listen to them. Comfort them. Show them my sensitive side."
"Do you have any other side?" House said.
"Fair enough. . . " said Wilson. "Okay, let's try this: I once had a patient who told me that she was never more turned by her husband then when he was assembling IKEA furniture."
"Cuddy doesn't have any IKEA furniture," House said. "If it wasn't hand-crafted by pygmies in an obscure Third World village, she doesn't buy it."
"It doesn't have to be from IKEA, House. Just build something for her."
"Too much work." He jammed the lollypop into the corner of his mouth. "What else ya got?"
"Well, if you're truly desperate, there's always puppies and babies. Guaranteed to make any woman's ovaries scream."
"Huh," House said thoughtfully. "No puppy. But I do have a baby conveniently on the premises."
He gave a swift nod of thanks, got up, took the sticky pop out of his mouth and placed it on Wilson's desk. It stuck straight up on the polished wood.
"Save that for me, would you?" he said. "I have a feeling I might need to get my oral fix elsewhere for a few days."
Later that day, he showed up in her office, with flowers behind his back.
"Flowers House, really?" she said.
"What, a gent can't bring his lady flowers on a lovely Monday afternoon?"
He handed them to her, and gave a gallant bow.
"I love the flowers," Cuddy said, smiling. "And under normal circumstances, they might even get you laid. But it's going to take more than a few flowers tonight, House. And frankly, your lack of creativity is disappointing."
"Oh, this is just Stage One," House said confidently. "A mere palate-cleanser for the onslaught of sexually irresistible behavior I will be unleashing. Consider yourself warned."
House had been so busy at work, he had no time to plan Stage Two. When he got to Cuddy's that night, he was tired and a little horny and he felt like a sitting duck.
It was almost 10 pm. Cuddy was sitting in her favorite chair, reading The New Yorker, wearing a robe and sipping some herbal tea.
"Hi," he said, landing heavily on the couch and flipping on the TV she had finally agreed to put in the living room. He tried to ignore her.
"What no kiss?" she said. "The terms of our bet clearly stipulate that we're allowed to kiss."
"What's the point?" he said.
"Right. Because every kiss has to lead to sex?" she asked.
He got up, dutifully gave her a kiss on the corner of her mouth, like an 8-year-old being forced to kiss his aunt.
"Wow," she said. "That was hot."
"I refuse to be lured into your love trap," he said, flopping back on the couch, sulking.
"I'll be right back." Her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm just going to slip into something more comfortable."
She went into the bedroom and emerged a few minutes later.
House looked up vaguely from the TV. He almost dropped the remote.
"What are you wearing, woman?" he shouted.
She had changed into a very skimpy cream-colored negligee that barely made it to her hips.
"I was uncomfortable," she said, with a shrug.
"And you changed into that?" he complained. "There are hookers that would find that too slutty!"
"You bought it for me," Cuddy said.
"Yes, and for a very specific purpose."
"It seems to be having the desired effect," she said, glancing at his pants.
"I never took you for a cheater," he said, throwing a blanket imperiously over his crotch.
"How is this cheating? If all it takes for you to break our bet is one short negligee, you never had a chance to begin with."
"Oh, I have an iron will, Cuddy. You have no idea how iron my will is."
"Really?" she said.
She looked down at the floor. "Oh, would you look at that?" she said coquettishly. "Rachel dropped her favorite toy!"
She bent down slowly, her ass just a few feet from his face, and picked it up. House's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. His hands reached toward her for a second, then he shook his head like a Golden Retriever shaking off a flea, and pulled them away.
"I'm going to bed," he said grumpily.
"I'm right behind you," she said.
"You're evil," he said. "An evil, evil temptress."
Cuddy gave a laugh that suggested that winning this bet was going to be a lot easier than she thought.
At about 5 pm the next day at work, a pair of chubby legs came charging into Cuddy's office.
"Mama!" Rachel yelled, running up to Cuddy's chair and leaping into her arms.
House followed, looking tired, carrying a stuffed bear, the remains of a SuperGulp, and a balloon.
"Rachel, what are you doing here?" Cuddy asked, glancing at House with annoyance.
"Howse took me to the zoo!" Rachel shouted, springing out of her mother's arms and hugging House's good leg.
"What happened to the nanny?"
"I gave her the afternoon off," House said, ruffling Rachel's hair. "Cause I had to spend time with my number one girl, right?"
"Right!" Rachel said.
"Tell mama what you saw at the zoo."
"Lions!" Rachel said.
"And what do the lions say?"
"Rawr!"
"Right! Rawr!"
"And what else did you see?"
"Ducks!"
"And what do the ducks say?"
"Quack, quack, quack. . ."
"You're so smart, Rachel," House said, beaming at Cuddy. "And tell mama what you said when you saw the daddy gorilla hugging the baby gorilla?"
"Just like Rachel and Howse!" Rachel said.
"Just like Rachel and Howse," House said, positively bursting with paternal pride.
Cuddy looked at him, shook her head in disbelief.
"And now we're going to Pizza Den for dinner. What are we going to eat, Rachel?"
"Pizza! Pizza! Pizza! Yay!"
"Yay!" he agreed, then said to Cuddy: "You want us to pick something up for you? A Caesar salad or something?"
"No, I'm good," Cuddy said slowly. She had a look on her face like she was seeing a mirage.
House grabbed Rachel's grimy little hand.
"Okay, say goodbye to mama, Rachel!"
"Bye-bye, mama!"
"Don't work too hard, boss. See you when you get home."
As they left, House leaned down and whispered something into Rachel's ear. And Rachel Cuddy laughed like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard in her entire 3 years of life.
The next day, in the cafeteria, Cuddy bumped into Jenny Seibert, a pretty former nurse who had quit a year ago to go to grad school.
"Jenny, what brings you here?"
"Just visiting some of the old gang," Jenny said.
"How's school?"
"Oh, that didn't work out," Jenny said with a shrug, following Cuddy to her table. "Mind if I join you?"
"Sure," Cuddy said, a little surprised. It wasn't like she and Jenny had ever hung out when they worked together. "I'm sorry school didn't work out. So what are you up to these days?"
"Oh, a little of this, a little of that. You know."
Cuddy didn't know. But she nodded anyway.
Jenny took a bite of her tuna sandwich and leaned in, conspiratorially. "So Dr. Cuddy, are the rumors true?"
"What rumors?"
"About you and Dr. House, of course!"
"Oh, uh. . .yeah, I guess they are." Cuddy felt herself begin to blush.
"I knew it!" Jenny said, looking proud of herself. "I always used to say that the sexual tension between you guys could power the entire hospital."
"You used to say that, huh?"
"Well, all the nurses gossiped about it. We had bets on when you two were finally going to do it."
"You and the other nurses had bets? About when the Dean of Medicine and the head of diagnostics were going to 'do it'? Can I get their names please? First and last?" She was joking. Kind of.
Jenny laughed. "I mean, I don't blame you. I could get lost in those baby blues for days. So is he as sexy as I know he is?"
Cuddy practically choked on a piece of lettuce.
"I don't really think this is appropriate lunch conversation, Jenny."
"Come on, I don't work for you anymore. We're just a couple of girls having lunch. He's amazing in bed, right?"
"Jenny, I. . ."
"You don't have to be shy about it. If I was dating Dr. House I'd be riding him all day and all night like the thoroughbred that he is."
Cuddy side-eyed Jenny and broke into a broad grin.
"So how much did Dr. House pay you to conduct this little conversation?" she asked.
"Shit!" Jenny said. "I told him thoroughbred was too much. He insisted."
"How much?"
"$250."
"Which you most certainly will be donating to the Princeton Plainsboro Charitable Fund later this year?" Cuddy said.
"Yes, Dr. Cuddy," Jenny said sheepishly, getting up. She smiled knowingly at her old boss. "I wasn't lying about the sexual tension part, though. You two were, like, whoa. Explosive."
"Nice try, House," Cuddy said when she got home that night.
"What?" he said innocently, barely looking up from the TV.
"'Ride him all day and night like a thoroughbred?'"
"Too much?" he asked. "Damn. Jenny's an actress now, you know. She does local theater. I thought she'd sell it."
"Dame Judi Dench herself couldn't pull that line off."
"Oh," he said.
Cuddy went to sit next him, careful not to touch any part of his body with her own.
"What's that?" she said, gesturing to a lump covered in a blanket on the coffee table.
"Oh that?" House said casually. "Actually, it's a little something I'm making for you."
"Making? For me?"
"It's, well, if you must know, it's a jewelry box that I'm whittling."
"You whittle?"
"Oh, I whittle alright," House said. "I whittle til the cows come home."
Cuddy gave him a look. "Let me see," she said skeptically, lifting the blanket. Sure enough, it was a beautiful hand-carved jewelry box, made out of walnut.
"Now you've ruined the surprise."
"I hardly think that placing something in my direct line of vision and covering it with a blanket qualifies as a surprise."
"Do you like it?"
Cuddy ran her hand over the glossy wood.
"It's beautiful, House," she said, meaning it.
"I'm going to do an inlay of a fleur-de-lis. And then when you open it, it's going to play that Erik Satie song you like so much," House said.
"Gymnopedies?" Cuddy said.
"Yeah, that's the one."
"House, I . . . thank you. I'll cherish it forever."
She gave him a kiss on the lips and for a second, her lips lingered, like she was about to go farther.
"Kinda makes you want to jump my bones, huh?" he boasted.
"Aaaaand . . . there goes the mood," Cuddy said, backing away.
"Crap," House said.
Cuddy, having regained her senses, now gave House another devilish look.
"I see your game, House. And I raise you one."
She fanned herself dramatically.
"Are you hot?" she asked.
"Hot?"
"Yeah, because I'm feeling rather hot."
She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse.
House watched her warily.
She sauntered into the kitchen and opened the freezer. She pulled out an ice cube.
"You wouldn't," he said.
"Wouldn't what?" she said.
She held up her hair with one hand and ran the ice cube down the side of her neck.
"Mmmm, that feels better."
House's mouth dropped open.
"Now, this is just cruel."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, taking the ice cube and rolling it over her cleavage. "That feels sooooo good," she murmured.
He got off the couch and limped toward her.
"You wanna help?" she said, handing him the ice cube, a come-hither look on her face.
He took it. For a dizzying second he had an image of putting the ice cube in his mouth and guiding it slowly over every inch her body. She'd win the bet, but so what? Her neck and cleavage were still glistening with moisture. He thought there might be whipped cream in the fridge, too.
Iron will, he reminded himself. Iron will.
"You are a black widow," he said.
He dropped the ice cube into the sink and skulked off to bed.
It was their fourth Night Without Nookie, as House called it, and they'd gotten pretty good at negotiating the minefield that was the bed.
House stayed all the way on his side, in his pajama bottoms and a tee, lying under the top sheet, and Cuddy stayed all the way on hers, in a functional nightie, wrapped tightly in a blanket like a burrito.
But on this particular night, she couldn't sleep, so she read quietly, trying not to wake him.
She looked at the rise and fall of his back and had an almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch him. She didn't miss the sex as much as she missed the feel of him. She tried, in vain, to concentrate on her book.
House stirred.
"Why aren't you asleep?" he whispered groggily. "It's 2 in the morning."
"I don't know. I'm stressed," she admitted.
He half opened his eyes. Cuddy always found that he was more sweet when he was sleepy—it was like he wasn't sharp enough yet to put on his armor of snark.
"Whazza matter?" he asked.
Cuddy shrugged. "The usual. I'm presenting my budget to the board tomorrow and it's not going to be a happy report. Plus, there's Dr. Baker's malpractice hearing, and I have to somehow find time to take Rachel to the pediatrician."
"Don't worry, I'll take Rachel," he said, still half-asleep. And he pat her gently on the hip.
Technically, he had just lost the bet. But the gesture was neither sexual nor fully conscious. It was, in fact, genuinely tender —not about sex, but about love. And Cuddy was beginning to wish she'd never made this damn bet in the first place.
The next night, House poked his head through the front door before entering.
"Is it safe?" he asked dramatically.
Cuddy chuckled. "I think so, yes."
"What are you wearing?"
"One of your T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants."
"But you look good in my T-shirts," House moaned. "Are you wearing a bra?"
"No," Cuddy laughed. "But the shirt is baggy. You'd never know."
"Oh, I'd know," House said, finally walking into the living room. "I'd know."
He plopped down next to her on the couch, sighed.
"This has been the longest week of my life," he admitted.
"You and me both, brother," Cuddy said.
"Please. I haven't been torturing you all week with hooker nightgowns and slutty ice-capades.
"Ummm, taking Rachel to the zoo? Making me a jewelry box? That's hitting a girl where she lives."
"You liked that, huh?" House said, grinning despite himself.
"I'll be honest," he said after a minute. "The only thing I hate more than not sleeping with you is the thought of losing this damn bet."
"Same here," Cuddy said. "For future reference: The two most stubborn people on the planet probably should avoid making bets."
"Agreed."
He rested his chin in his hand and gave her a puppy dog look. "I miss you," he said.
"I miss you, too," she replied. "We could. . .kiss? That's in the rules, right? We can kiss as long as there's no sexual touching."
"I guess I'll take what I can get," he said.
He scooted next to her.
"Hands behind your back," he ordered.
She obeyed. He did the same.
He leaned forward, kissed her lightly, just a brush. Their mouths parted a bit. They kissed again. House cautiously put his tongue in her mouth, as though testing the waters. Cuddy responded in kind. The kiss got deeper, more ardent. They rocked gently, almost pantomiming the motion of sex, their hands both stirring from behind their backs.
House grabbed the sides of the couch, trying to anchor himself. Cuddy clasped her hands behind her head, trying with all her willpower not to reach for his stomach.
In unison, they said, "Fuck it!" and flailed wildly at each other.
They fell back on the couch and released five days of pent up erotic tension with what could only be described as mindblowing sex.
Afterwards, both naked, with Cuddy's arms and legs still wrapped around House, they sat in awed silence.
"Wow," Cuddy finally said.
"Wow," House said back, a bit winded, his lips pressed up against her neck.
"So I guess it was . . . a draw?" House said.
"Actually, I'm pretty sure I touched you a millisecond before you touched me," Cuddy said.
"Really?" House raised his eyebrows.
"Well, either that, or . . ." she leaned in, whispered in his ear: "Maybe I just want you to ravage me in any way that you desire."
"Goddamn, Cuddy. I do love you."
"I love you, too, House."