Disclaimer: Bad Hat Harry and David Shore own it all
A/N: Okay so this is a bit different from my other House stories in that it has little to no talking between the characters. Also it's set somewhere in Season Two after Stacy leaves. Seeing as I only saw till midway S2. Also, I wanted to show House in a vulnerable state where instead of telling the world where they could get off, he actually admitted to needing someone to help him.
Okay I read this through again and I saw there were a few inconsistincies so I remedied it and reposted. Hope it reads better now
Catalyst
Three hours into the party Cuddy had retreated to her office, her place of refuge. Her face was hurting and she was almost sure that when the pain would finally wear off, she would still need a few days to recover from the exhaustion. Yes, it was a tiring job, but she definitely knew how to get the benefactors to put their money where their mouths were, and mentioning a certain Board Certified Diagnostician's name helped, even though he was never present to acknowledge the fact.
Now that she thought of it, she hadn't seen said Diagnostician the entire evening. While she knew that he hated the prospect of even attending these events, she still held a hope that he might change his mind and actually attend one. Even the lure of free drinks couldn't get him to come to one of these parties and she sighed wearily.
It was almost two in the morning and Cuddy was exhausted, still, she decided to take one last walk through her hospital, just to check that everything had been cleared up from the party earlier and that the entrance hall and the conference rooms were in spotless conditions so they could be used later in the day if the need arose. Her heels clicked softly on the vinyl floors as she made her way from her office past the clinic and toward the elevators. A hushed silence descended in the clinic as she waited for the elevator cart to arrive, and then she heard it. It was a soft melody of notes flowing in the quiet surroundings of the reception area.
Her curiosity got the better of her and she abandoned the thoughts of going to the third floor to see if the diagnostician was indeed at the hospital and had simply avoided coming down to the party, in favour of finding the source of the music. The melody seemed to be coming from the conference room, and as she walked in that direction she noted that all the décor had already been removed, the furniture arranged neatly against the walls, ready to be moved in the morning and the lights dimmed to their lowest, giving off a warm glow. She was also somewhat surprised when she came across the music instruments, laying abandoned in a corner.
"Dr Cuddy," she heard a voice behind her and turned to find herself face to face with her oncologist.
"Wilson," she replied with slight surprise at his presence.
"I thought you left hours ago," he said as he watched her carefully.
"No, I retreated to my office for a little time out and when I glanced at the clock again it was just past one this morning," she answered his unasked question.
"Did House?" he started to ask but was cut off when his beeper went off drowning out the rest of his question.
"Go," she said simply to her oncologist and turned in the direction of the conference room again.
Her steps were slow and measured as she entered the large room, her eyes roaming the expanse of the area until it found what she was looking for. Her gaze was focused on the piano set on the far side of the room and the form of a person sitting on the stool behind it. She strained her eyes to focus more intently on the figure and she inhaled sharply when she immediately recognised his posture.
A dim bulb was glowing on the opposite end of the room where he was settled on the wooden bench behind the dark Mahogany Baby Grand that sat in the deserted conference room, basking him in a soft glow. She stood silently in the doorway, simply admiring him as his long artistic fingers danced effortlessly on the black and ivory coloured keys, creating a smooth melody that for some insane reason seemed to tug at her heart strings. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and steady, his brows furrowed in immense concentration as he continued to play on, seemingly not even aware of her presence in the room.
She watched him for a full three minutes as he played, not having a care in the world. As he reached the climax of the song, she saw his lip turn up in his usual knowing smirk. His eyes opened as his allowed his fingers to move with more ease and the decreased the tempo of the piece. As soon as the last strings of music had filtered out of the room, he turned to look in her direction, she still standing against the far side of the wall, a smile gracing her tired features.
"You gonna stand there all night or you gonna join me here?" he asked her without looking straight at her.
Only when he nodded his head in her direction did she carefully made her way over to where he was seated. Cuddy took note of the glass of alcohol placed in the centre of a coaster on the piano. There were droplets on the sides of the outside of the glass and she presumed it had been standing untouched for a long while. She was about to sit down on the bench next to him, when she found his hand on her waist, pulling her toward him, placing her between him and the baby grand.
The material covering her body felt smooth and sleek. It felt as though he were actually touching her skin and he wished that it were not covering her perfectly sculpted body. She felt the heat from his hand burn through her dress, setting her skin on fire where his hand was touching her. His other hand found its way to her body and before she even realised it, he had trapped her between his knees, making it almost impossible for her to escape without hurting him.
"House…" she started, but stopped immediately when she saw his normally fiery blue eyes held no sparkle at all tonight. Unconsciously she planted one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his head, drawing him to her, and placing his head against her chest. His hands trailed their way to her back, stopping a few millimetres away from the dimples in her lower back. He traced his fingers up her back agonisingly slowly, going over every bump in her spine, until he came to the base of her head. He was now standing, towering above her and she had to look up to him to face him.
She didn't expect to see what she saw; there was absolutely no trace of the misanthropic, cynical, snarky, annoying employee House in sight. Instead he was replaced with a vulnerable, caring, hurt, Greg standing before her. She could feel the need his hands. The need to love, the need to touch and be touched in return. His hand continued its journey to the front of her neck, the hollow at the base of her throat, her sternum, almost to the end of her xyphoid process when suddenly he stopped, and moved his hand to his right, cupping her left breast in the process. She tried to stifle her responding groan, in favour of seeing just how far he was willing to go with this.
The air was warm with want and cackled with intensity. He lowered his head and his mouth made contact with the exposed skin of her shoulder, following the path his hand had traced two minutes prior, his tongue leaving a wet trail on her body. The front of her dress didn't put up much of a barrier between her skin and his mouth as it dipped low almost exposing the top of her cleavage, and she sucked in a deep breath and tensed involuntarily as she felt his mouth nearing her breasts.
House's hands were gently massaging her sides, keeping them in full contact with her body. Hers were hovering somewhere near his chest, she was not sure yet if she wanted this little seduction to go on or she wanted it to end here and not talk about it ever again. But her heart had already made her choice for her and within seconds her hands were gripping his rumpled shirt, pulling him closer to her, allowing his chest to brush up against hers.
She felt him disengage his mouth from her body and looked down at him, her blue eyes shining with passion. She knew what was coming when she felt him cup her cheeks in his hands and rubbed his thumbs against her smooth flawless skin. As he lowered his lips to hers she turned her face, not allowing him to kiss her on the mouth, knowing full well what it would lead to. She had experienced this before. Kissing Greg House lead to nothing good. It was like that twenty years ago, and she was guessing it would lead to the same thing now.
He tried to kiss her on the lips twice more, but sighed in defeat when she had not allowed him to do so.
"Lisa," it was partly a request and partly a plea, and she couldn't deny him his request. He was vulnerable, open and unprotected at the moment. He was not House but Greg, the man she had fallen in love with almost twenty years ago.
Without thinking she lifted her head to face him, her lips gently meeting his. She could taste the bitter taste of Vicodin on his lips and something sweet, like alcohol, which she assumed he must have took a sip of earlier as she noted the glass of amber liquid placed on a coaster on the piano. She allowed her tongue to trace his lips and he opened his mouth in invitation, her tongue introducing itself to his.
She took the initiative and used her mouth to make love to his, until the material of her dress was bunched up in his hands, tasting the hope, fear, trust, desire and love he felt for her, but would never admit it on a normal day. He pulled her to him, eliminating the hair breaths distance between their bodies, both feeling the need for each other. His hands tangled themselves in her hair as he injected her with all the passion he felt for her. Their mouths moved over each other's and Greg was as gentle as he could be with her. He knew even if he wanted to, he could never hurt her, and she knew it too.
She allowed him to kiss her for as long as he wanted, until he was satisfied, though she knows too that Greg will never be satisfied with just one kiss. The kiss subsided with her letting him nip erotically at her lips and neck, her skin flushed with heat and passion.
They are drawn out of their little world by a clearing of a throat and Greg lifts his head, to see his best friend Wilson staring wide eyed and open mouthed at them.
"You forget something Jimmy Boy?" House asks a little harshly, not wanting or intending for anyone else to catch him in a compromising or vulnerable position.
"No," Wilson replied and quickly exited the room, not turning back even though his curiosity was killing him.
A pregnant pause followed and a comfortable silence took up residence in the large room, but as knew it was over. The expression on his face alerted her that the decision had already been made. She looked up to him and she knew too that while he had made the choice, he would not be the one to stop whatever it was that was going on a few minutes ago.
"I'll see you tomorrow Greg," the Dean says as she placed a comforting hand on his chest.
"Yeah Cuddy, Tomorrow," he replied and she knew his use of her last name means that this will not be mentioned again and she's not sure if she actually wants that or not.
Just incase anyone was wondering the catalyst was the music that lured Cuddy to House.
Please review and tell me how bad or good this was cause it's actually quite difficult to write House as a character.