„Are you screwing with me?" he still sounded like he thought of himself as the winner in this battle.
This made her even more furious and she approached him, feeling taller, stronger.
Her eyes glared, her insides burnt. She felt like a lioness staring at her prey. Merciless, hungry. Enjoying her strength.
"Are YOU screwing with ME?" she almost shouted back making another step towards him, threatening him, taking some more of his room, of this individual space he usually needed so badly.
But he didn't flinch, he was too concentrated on this game.
"Depends on your answer", he instantly shot back, his tone still victorious, unimpressed. Almost cold.
But in his eyes she saw that he wasn't that cold at all. He was boiling inside.
There was nothing in this room. Nothing except for them.
And an endless tension that took their breath away and tightened around their chests, almost making their hearts come to a stop.
They were in a deadlock.
Seconds passed as the world stood still, time holding her breath with them.
Then they set in motion again.
Somehow they started circling each other, none of them daring to make that last move until their bodies would inevitably touch.
Cuddy was the one who stopped, hesitated, took a breath of dry, hot air, tasting his scent on her tongue. He was THAT close.
A hoarse chuckle escaped her throat when she raised an eyebrow and looked up at him.
"You're such a coward", she said, her voice rough, broken from the dry air.
"I knew you wouldn't have the guts to-", she added and got interrupted by his angry voice breaking the silence in which her words had fallen into so softly, almost disappointedly.
"What?" he spat out, his eyes piercing her with their icy blue. "What do you want?"
It almost sounded helpless.
But all he wanted was her to shut up.
He wanted her to stop playing. He wanted her to give in, let down her guards.
He wanted her...
As if she had sensed his helplessness her expression softened, her shoulders loosened, but she didn't move.
"I don't know…", she replied. "Honesty?"
Their eyes met again.
Long enough for the tension to rise again, not long enough for the spark to ignite.
"I AM honest. You are the one who said it meant nothing", he answered, suddenly not so playfully any more at all.
The words lingered in the air, crawling into her ears, forming meaning, developing, reaching her soul.
She frowned.
"So you're saying it did mean something? To you?" she slyly replied.
"No. I'm saying it meant something to YOU, but you keep lying about it and yet your actions prove the contrary", he replied a little too quickly for her taste.
"Right", she stretched the word on her tongue, let it roll over it towards her lips like a wave, "And your complete indifference with this whole - thing - is why you sneaked into my office to manipulate my drawer."
Her hands flew around in the air in a wild gesture, but his gaze rested calmly on her lips, only flicking up to her eyes every once in a while.
"You are such a child, House", she finished with frustrated bitterness, her body losing all its tension, allowing her to pull back.
Only so much that he could notice it and instantly filled up that newly gained space by approaching her, forcing her to make a choice.
Her choice being a different one than before. Because this time she stepped backwards.
As usual, their modes of operation worked against each other. When he decided to make a step forward she didn't want him to. And when she wanted him to, he wouldn't.
It was simply infuriating.
"And you are annoying", he grunted back, his voice now layered with a strangely rough softness, that made her look up at him, momentarily stiffening in response.
She took another step backwards, followed by him.
"What are you doing?" she asked him, puzzled as she felt the space between them narrowing again.
"I don't know. What are YOU doing?" he looked at her, the glint of a raptor in his eyes.
She stopped when her back hit the wall. Cold, hard. End of the game.
But it was still up to her to choose whether she was going to win this.
Her lips parted as she tried to breathe.
He stopped.
She inhaled the air, hungering for the dryness to fill her mouth, for the roughness in her throat.
Her eyes narrowed while she was trying to read the expression on his face, getting tired of it and at the same time having her heart broken by it.
"Are you trying to stare me away?" he asked when seconds of absolute silence had passed. "'Cause---"
"Oh screw it!", she interrupted him, letting out that dry air she had held back in her lungs.
The last syllable she pressed on his mouth, blew into his lungs as he inhaled her kiss.
It was angry, violent, mind-blowing. Her cold fingers lay on his cheeks that felt scratchy and hot on her palms.
And she pushed forward, took all the space between them, filled it, pushed him so hard that he stumbled, held on to her.
Their teeth touched, hurt, his stubbles left sore scratches on her skin. His fingers got tangled up in her curls and her nails dug into his shoulders. His hands laid on her back, flat, warm, feeling her muscles tighten under her top, trailing down her spine. Their kiss was choreographed by a feeling of victory, of liberation. And of confusion and frustration.
They didn't want this. They fought it with all they had.
But they couldn't stop it from being there.
It wasn't until their minds got blocked by their arousal that they finally gave in.
Allowed the longing for each other to take over their bodies and minds, leaving them throbbing.
Demanding for it rather than fighting it.
And that was when they stopped.
Lips parting, noses brushing, fingers lingering on skin.
Eyes meeting in the space that got between them again.
They swallowed the last remnants of the kiss and felt their hearts parting, returning back to their own pace.
"So. Did this mean nothing to you either?" he asked in a low, almost whispering voice.
And this time she didn't have the strength to lie.
House smiled at her.
The game was over.