A/N: This is for you, Laniki... Still can't figure how to post on FOX, but whatever, you've got it here!

Written for the FOX OC Babes Friday night challenge: An Affair to Remember.

I don't own House. I only wish I was that great!

Red Light, Green Light

House was annoyed. The team was annoying him. Their patient was annoying him. Wilson, well… that went without question… and most certainly Cuddy was annoying him. Blah, blah, blah, can't cut into a woman and remove her kidney to see if the other one stepped up to the plate… Yeah, yeah, whatever was he thinking? Foolish nephrologist, he had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Honestly, people and their organs could just be so indecisive. So after being berated for his good medical sense, that no one seemed to appreciate, he'd spent the better part of the afternoon playing poker with Lew the janitor, but after a while even that got annoying. The guy was good for a laugh for about twenty minutes. Then it just got mentally taxing. And then about forty-five minutes into it, House began to lose brain cells too. So he got outta Dodge.

He hoped on his bike and took off. Fuck 'em. Let them figure out what to do about the large cell carcinoma. He needed to ride… 'Ride like the Wind', 'Born to be wild', 'Get your motor runnin'' and all sorts of other cheesy-ass euphemisms for a vibrating crotch rocket speeding down the highway at ninety miles an hour. Except he wasn't quite there yet. He was at the light on Main. Waiting.

It was unseasonably warm for February, perfect weather for a bike ride when you had Spring Fever and were pissed off. Oh yeah, and the kicker to his really annoying day… it was Valentine's Day. The single most ridiculous holiday of the year, next to Arbor Day but nobody gave a shit about that because trees didn't have big mouths with unrealistic expectations. Freaking Valentine's Day, chocolates in a heart shaped box, roses with jacked up prices because they could rape you like that knowing full well you'd rather cut your arm off then show up empty handed. It was false affection, romanticism out of obligation. Women leading men around by their penises because they had their balls by the short and curlies. It was a lovely holiday and he was glad he was single. And alone.

Another bike pulled up along side him. A sweet, sweet ride. It was a cherry red Ducati Mutlistrada. The thing looked like the devil on wheels. Gleaming red skin, carbon metal skeleton. It practically breathed from every pore. House's eyes followed the rider's booted foot up from the foot gearshift. The leg was slim, clad in tight black leather. The calf eased into the thigh and then finished in a tight round ass perched ever so perfectly on the scoop of the seat. This was no man, this was pure, sex kitten. A badass tigress in black and red leather on a bike that harnessed power like Ares was its bitch.

After a second, the rider turned her head to look at him. Her helmet was white with black and red designs, pointed, sharp flowers with barbed wire vines streaking back toward the aerodynamic fin designed to create less air drag. It was sleek and dangerous. He guessed just like the woman on the bike. Her shield was clear and when her eyes met his they flashed with green fire. Oh yeah, she was a wild one… all right.

She nodded at him, lifting her chin up to get his attention. She didn't really have to try that hard. He was riveted already. She revved her engine and raised her eyebrows in a challenge. When he didn't immediately respond, she lurched her demon between her legs forward an inch. She wanted to race.

House chuckled. Who was this siren?

The light turned green and she took off like a bat out of hell.

Well, who was he to decline?

He pulled his throttle and dropped the hammer bolting down the street after her. She was fast. Her bike shot out like a missile in front of him but. If he wasn't so caught up in how fabulous her ass looked perched on the back of that bike, he'd have been pissed off that she was almost leaving him in the dust. Gradually he caught up to her. She had the better bike, so she had to have held back a bit for him to catch up. That was fine, it was like she was a fisherman reeling him.

Following her lead, she took him out to Rt. 206 and then down to County Road 518. Once they reached the open stretch of country road, she looked back at him and then bolted. He could imagine her throaty chuckle in his head as she taunted him with her ass and her eyes leaving him in the dust. House gunned it and followed her. The road twisted and turned like a snake through the snow-covered fields on either side of the road as they raced into the countryside of New Jersey. He felt the pull of gravity in his balls every time he accelerated out of a turn. The wheels of his bike hugged the corners like a lover's caress, leaning ever so precariously left and then right and back again. God, he loved speed. I was almost as good as sex and Vicodin. All of it together, now that was a thrill better than any ride.

He caught up to her coming up on her tail. She moved over allowing him to pull along side of her. They paced each other for a bit. Each of them tempting the other to go further. She turned her head to look at him. He could see the tempting smile in her emerald eyes. Never one to be the last in line, he rocketed forward this time stealing the lead. His bike was no slouch. It had some whoop ass in it enough to give her a run for her money. He was a good 100 yards ahead of her in seconds. The element of surprise gave him some space. His victory was short lived, however. That wraith of a bike she had caught up to him in ten seconds flat. She sidled up against his left side and flashed him a look. Her eyes were wild with excitement. Her could read her fervor and her fierce competitiveness. She was irked, but impressed. But she couldn't let him bask in it for too long, maybe thirty seconds as they jockeyed for position. She pulled ahead and slid in front of him, close enough to clip his wheel if he didn't swerve away.

Now he was ticked. He shifted, dropping the throttle and sped up right on her tail. Gravity and force pushing him back. He could feel the pull in his chest, the exhilaration of adrenaline as it coursed through him. They were coming up on the crest of a hill along a deserted stretch of road running between some horse farms. The mares were out in the field huddled together in the last of the afternoon sun. He swung up along side of her, inched ahead and glanced at her. She leaned forward crouching low over her machine. Kicking it into high gear, she catapulted ahead of him, somewhere close to a hundred miles an hour. House did the same trying to catch her but her bike was too fast and a car was coming in the opposite direction. He bolted into the right lane and slowed his speed.

Damn it. All he could see was her taillights in the distance. Fuck. He'd lost her.

Slowing back down a bit, he punched at the tank between his legs. Anger and disappointment coursed through him erasing the flash of adrenaline that had been racing in him. Fuck.

House followed the road, riding out the rest of his anger. By the time his fury had dissipated, he came up into parking lot of a bar. He pulled into a spot and took off his helmet. He rested it against his thigh. And then he saw her. She dismounted her bike with a catlike grace swinging her leg over the edge. Standing, she turned to look at him. In slow motion, like a rock video, she took of her helmet and shook out her hair. The dark, fiery mass of curls swung and bounced gleaming in the setting sunlight like a torch. Her hair was long and full with loose spiral curls that just cascaded down her back. Their eyes met and she gave him a smirk before stowing her helmet on her bike.

Striding over to him, she pulled her gloves off finger-by-finger, never breaking eye contact with him. Green eyes melded with blue and House felt his pulse quicken. God, she was beautiful.

The ran her tongue over her bottom lip and arched an eyebrow at she came to a stop in front of him. "You're late."

House took off his helmet and gave her a slow once over. "I wasn't aware we had a date."

She scoffed a smirk, curling her lips seductively. "Please, blue eyes like that on a Repsol. It's no Ducati but you've proved you can hold your own with me. You can buy me a drink." She started to head in the direction of the bar, her ass swinging seductively with each stride.

House hesitated remaining on his bike. As soon as he stepped foot off his bike she'd see his leg. And would she think he was so cool then?

"What? You need a little incentive?" she called back to him. She turned around and closed the distance with a look in her eye that set his blood on fire.

House opened his mouth to speak but she grabbed his face and planted a kiss on him. Her soft lips pressed into his firmly and her tongue slipped in wresting hotly with his. Instinctively, House brought his hands up to pull her close to him deepening the kiss. His heart beat in his ears and his pulse hammered through him again as if he were still speeding down the stretch of asphalt. Who the hell was this woman and what did he do to earn this kind of porn fantasy?

She broke the kiss with a nip on his lip and then grinned. "Now you can buy me two drinks."

She stepped away from him, dragging her fingers down the front of his chest purring like a kitten as she moved. House took a moment to collect himself and reached into his pocket for his familiar vial. Palming two of his Vicodin, he dry swallowed them earning a curious lift of the eyebrow from his mystery woman.

Without explanation he got off his bike, awkwardly hopping on his left leg until he cleared the seat with his other one before grabbing his cane from its clip on the other side. Putting his full weight on the curved handle, he chanced a glance at her. Her face was passive except for a little smile reflecting in her eyes. She nodded her head and turned in the direction of the bar. Evidently she didn't care about his disability and he owed her two drinks for setting his world on fire. Once again, who was he to decline? If that was as far as it went, then he could chalk it up to a really, really good day. If it went further than that, then hell… it might even be a really, really good year.

House entered the dark bar to the smell of beer and the lingering odor of stale cigarettes that permeated the walls from back when it was still ok to smoke inside a bar. He took a breath, oddly comforted by the atmosphere, it looked like every other seedy bar he'd been to. Shady guys sitting in the corner, old men with no where else to be, wearing the naugahyde thin on the barstools with their boney asses, a pool table, sports on the TVs and neon beer signs as if the alcohol needed any more advertisement than the promise to just forget yourself. This hot sexy woman was as out of place as she was at home in there and it added to her intrigue.

She ordered up two shots of whiskey before he had a chance to make it to the padded edge of the bar. The bartender, a big burly guy with tattoos all over both of his arms, poured the shots and slid them to her with a grunt. House eyed him. No doubt he was the enforcer as well if things got out of hand at two in the morning at closing time.

Handing him the thick-bottomed shot glass, she eyed him over the edge of hers. "Here's to being single on Valentine's Day. May we always stay free and ride like the wind." She slung back her glass and slammed it upside down on the bar. House followed suit. Philosophical was not how he would have described her, but maybe she was more than just a hot chick on a bike in tight leather pants. He should know better, women like her always were.

House shook his head and blinked against the Vicodin and alcohol burning in his gut. The soothing warmth would take over soon and he would begin to feel numb, that state where he liked to be the most. He watched his fiery haired mystery woman saunter over to the jukebox and select a few bluesy rock songs from the seventies. Eric Clapton, Deep Purple, Jethro Tull and some Bad Company thrown in. He liked her style. Having removed her leather jacket to reveal a tight red tank top, she came up along side him and tossed him a cue stick.

"Are you a betting man?" she asked, chalking up her cue.

House tilted his head to the side taking off his jacket and leaning his cane against chair along side of the wall. "I've been known to bet now and again."

"High stakes or chump change?"

"Both."

She smiled slowly. "High stakes it is."

"What's the proposal?"

"Best two out of three. If I win, I get the keys to the Repsol."

House snorted a laugh in disbelief. "Why would you want the keys to my bike? Yours kicks ass and mine has a big scrape on the side."

"I like a challenge," she shrugged.

"And if I win?"

"You get to buy me another drink," she purred coming up close to him, her breast rubbing against his forearm.

House narrowed eyes at her. "That hardly seems fair."

"It will be when you're licking it out of my belly button."

"Game on."

They were tied a game each when House took a break and went to the john. Zipping up his fly, he limped over to the sink to wash his hands. He looked at himself in the grimy mirror and wondered when the fuck he'd gotten so old. Apparently he still had it though, because this was the hottest woman he'd had the pleasure of that didn't cost him five hundred dollars and the inevitable self-recrimination and disgust afterward.

The door swung open and he slid his eyes, using urinal etiquette to discreetly see who entered. It was Red. She turned the lock on the door and approached him with a secretive smile on her face. He leaned against the sink on his hip and lifted an eyebrow in question as to what exactly she had planned in this filthy men's room.

"I'm tired of playing pool and watching your ass bend over the table every time you make a shot," she told him. "I figure lets chalk it up to us both winning because honestly I don't have the patience to pretend to lose to you."

House didn't know quite what to say. She was forward and aggressive and that turned him on like a gasoline on an inferno. All he really had to do was look at her and she reached out her hand and tugged him against her by his belt buckle. Her breasts smashed up against his chest and her tongue plunged into his mouth wildly tasting him. She was pure fire, smoky whiskey heat and he went down in flames.

Her hands groped and scratched at him, clawing at his chest and arms all while she stole his breath and senses from him. He was her plaything and there was not a damn thing he could do to stop himself, that was even if he wanted to. Even after an hour of drinking with her, he still had no idea what her name was but he knew she was beautiful and she was hot for him, and frankly for a guy with drug problem and half a leg, that was all that really mattered.

Feeling his desire escalate, his hands roamed down to grab her ass, that same ass that had enticed him to follow her on the bike and that same ass that had taunted him while she bent over the table to play out a game for a silly bet that was most likely going to end up here anyway. It was round and firm in his hands and he squeezed it jamming his hips against hers to feel his cock pressed up against her core. He wanted to plunge into her repeatedly and make her scream. He'd only get one chance at a night like this and he was going to run with it.

Reaching her hand down, she undid the fly to his jean and dragged her short nails against his crisp hair. She bit at his neck as she teased him circling her fingertip around the tip of his cock trapped against the front of his underwear. He growled against her neck as he sucked on her collarbone and she purred against him knowing just how much she was torturing him.

Her fingers pulled at his hair as she yanked his head back to force her tongue back into his throat. She was strong and tough, but the little whimpers of pleasure she elicited made him wonder if it was all a façade. Right now he didn't care though, he was going to fuck her senseless. She could be who ever she wanted to be until he got off.

House tugged at the zipper to her pants and jammed his hands in the sides, forcing the leather down her smooth thighs. He moaned in her throat and almost came right there. She had on no underwear. That was fucking hotter than hot.

Somehow, out of some sense of reason and rationality, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a condom. He didn't know why it was there, maybe it was because he hadn't washed these jeans since he went to the strip club two weeks ago. Whatever, it was divine intervention and he was glad he had it. She may be hot, but he had no idea who she was.

Quickly dropping his pants, he handed her the prophylactic and she efficiently rolled it onto him with a sense of urgency after she took the full length of him into her mouth and laved him feverishly with her full tongue. He almost lost his footing, but she come back up and steadied him with another hungry kiss as she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt in her hands.

Cupping her ass, he lifted her tiny frame and placed her on the edge of the sink. He knew it was filthy so he rested her bottom on his hands as a shield. She was all of a hundred pounds so it easily made him look like a superman, despite the giant scar on his leg. All practicality and heroism was forgotten when he slammed into her and she threw her head back in unbridled ecstasy.

It was fast a furious. Pure unrestrained fucking. She came once around him, fast and hard, gasping against his neck, nothing but the sound of her breathing and the dull music droning through the door. She mewed in his ear and pulled back to look into his eyes as he continued to fuck her harder. Their gazes locked, blue eyes melded into green as he plunged aggressively into her. Finally, she cried out again and sucked him into a vortex of pulsing pain and rampant pleasure. He grunted against her riding out the storm of electricity coursing through his body, pulsing and squeezing him dry. He came explosively, shaking him so hard to his very core, he thought his eyeballs might rocket out of his head from the force.

When their breathing slowed and they could no longer hold their position on the edge of the cracked porcelain, House opened his eyes to the dingy light of the bathroom. It was gross and a part of him felt shame for taking advantage of her in such a disgusting place. She didn't seem to mind as a slow smile crossed her lips and she kissed him deeply. He lifted her off the sink and let her slid down his front, touching his fingers to her delicate brow.

Something had changed in her, there was a brief flicker of vulnerability as she looked into eyes. She was beautiful, seductive yet contradictorily sweet and homey. When he really truly looked at her, he noticed that she looked like the kind of girl-next-door, type, soft freckles danced across her skin and a dewy reflection shone in her deep green eyes. There was pain there, a world-weariness and a defenselessness. But it was gone in a flash and her tough, hell on wheels façade was back.

She yanked her pants up, fastened the zipper, while he did the same. She turned around swiftly to check her make-up in the mirror before spinning back around to face him.

"Come, lets go find a bed, so we can do that over and over again," she said with a seductive lilt to her voice.

House grabbed her arm and halted her. "Why? Why me? What are you getting gout of this?"

She paused, a flicker of her true self, creeping through in the crack of her armor, before her mask slipped back into place. "One night, no expectations. That's all I want."

House warred with himself. It was indeed another offer he couldn't refuse. Apart of him wanted to know her real intentions, her reasoning and her rationale, but a part of him selfishly didn't care. She was ready, willing and able. She didn't give a shit about his leg, she didn't know what a bastard he was and didn't care how he treated her. She didn't want anything from him and she didn't expect him to be someone he was not. To her, he was a good fuck and a way to escape whatever it was she was trying to run from. Fine. She chose him and he was happy to oblige.

House woke to the muffled sounds of a woman's voice in the bathroom. He was confused at first, he didn't know where he was, but realization slowly came over him as he opened his eyes to the dim light eeking through the goldenrod heavy drapes and the light streaming through the crack underneath the bathroom door.

She was in there and she must have been on her cell phone.

"I'll be home soon," she said. "I had to work late."

There was a pause. "Yes, honey I know. Mhm. Okay." Another long pause and a sigh of hesitation. "Yes, sweetie, Mommy loves you too."

House closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face. God, she was a mother, of a young child evidently. What the hell was she doing out on a motorcycle, looking for a one-night stand?

He heard the door creak open and he quickly closed his eyes pretending to be asleep. He didn't want to make it more awkward and difficult for either one of them than it already was.

Burrowing his face into the pillow, he listened to her shuffle around the room quietly gathering her clothing, putting on the pieces as she went. She sat in the chair at the table by the window and pulled her boots on. He heard her sigh in resignation, run her hands over her hair and then get up. She grabbed her keys and was about to walk out the door, when she hesitated and turned back to look at him. He debated looking at her but then figured it was best to just let her go without a word. If she had really wanted to stay, she would have been next to him in the bed, not trying to slip out of the room in self-recrimination.

He let her go. It was fun while it lasted. They shared a night of sex and that was all it would ever be. His mystery biker chick with a life full of secrets. He had his and he didn't need the romantic entanglements he so carefully avoided. He told himself it was better this way. Better for them both. No matter how much he was drawn to her. They were two souls, with their own demons to slay, alone on Valentine's Day.

It was an affair to remember, that was all.

Four years later he had met her again. Same scenario, same thing they had done the first night he had seen her and the same thing they had done the year after that and the year after that. She always knew how to find him. Whether that was a good thing or not he wasn't sure but it amused him. She was consistent, even if she was mysterious.

"You're late," she chimed, pulling off her helmet letting her curls cascade down her back. Her hair was longer, now, reaching almost to the middle of her back. Maybe a little darker, like she had colored it a deeper shade of Auburn. Making her way over to him, she kissed him slowly and seductively, not having seen him in a whole year. She drank him in and then pulled back letting a secretive smile steal over her red lips.

House sighed and then smiled letting his hand slip to cup her ass. "I couldn't get out of the hospital. And I wasn't really that late." It was a bit of a lie but whatever, he didn't really owe her an explanation. "You look good, Red."

"Baby, I always look good," she said punching his arm. "You look like shit." Her fingers pulled at his short hair, examining his shorn cut.

House chuckled and nodded his head. "It's been a rough year."

"Please, Vicodin and alcohol, how bad could it be," she said.

Sighing he looked across the parking lot off into the distance. It had been a long year. And he wasn't sure he wanted to continue this yearly tryst he had going on with her because of it. But she was fun, no commitment, no expectations. And she was puzzle he couldn't figure out. "I've been clean for over six months."

Her eyes widened and she titled her head. "Really?"

"Yup," he nodded.

"Well, then I guess I should say congratulations," she said toying with the collar of his jacket.

House nodded a shy thanks. He didn't need her praise but it felt nice anyway.

She sighed and looked at him seriously for a moment, as if she were debating telling him something personal. "This will be that last Valentine's we meet."

House's eyebrows drew together at the news. He was surprised and a little miffed. "Why?"

"I'm getting married," she said simply. It wasn't a joyous admission, almost matter-of-fact, like a necessary evil.

"Why?" he asked her almost incredulously. Something in his stomach turned over and he was surprised with the violent reaction churning with in him

"Why?" she echoed with a laugh of disbelief. "Because… I am."

House got angry. He didn't know why, but a sense of rage swept over him and he pushed her away with his hands on her hips. "Then why would you come meet me? So you can have one last night of mind blowing sex before you return to your boring, pathetic little existence that you keep running from?"

Her eyes flashed at him and she jabbed a finger in his face. "You have no idea about anything! You know nothing about my life!"

"No," he shouted. "I know nothing because you refuse to tell me. You come here and you find me on the street, you take me to this bar and we fuck all night in the same cheap motel. But you tell me nothing about who you really are because you want to escape from what, I can't even imagine. But you know what? I'm done."

"What?" she hissed at him. "Just like that? You're going to walk away?"

"Why not? You did every year. You turned your back and walked out. And I let you, no questions asked."

"You wanted me to," she railed at him. "You never wanted anything more than this. If you did, you…"

"If I what?" he countered. "Was I supposed to plead with you to stay? Fuck that, you know I won't ever do that!"

She stormed at him and got up close to his face. "Maybe if you had… Maybe if you said something, anything at all… it'd be different."

She went to stalk away, running like she always did, but House grabbed her arm and kept her there rooted to him. He got close in her personal space pressing his lips closer to her ear. The idea of her leaving, being married to someone, unhappily attached, made him sick to his stomach. She closed her eyes at the pain of his nearness as if his skin was burning her, his proximity torturing her. "What if I said it now? Would it change anything?"

A strangled cry escaped her lips and she looked away across the gravel of the bar's parking lot. "It's too late, Greg." A lone tear rolled down her cheek and she frowned sadly. "You know it is."

House let her arm go. Hurt weighing heavily in his chest. He had waited too long, wasted too much time. With her, with everything.

She touched her hand gently to his cheek and he melted into the warmth of it as she sadly brought her lips to his. It was a kiss of finality. She was leaving him for good.

"I loved you, if ever I could have, for those brief moments in time," she told him. "You saved me, when I needed you and for that I will forever be thankful." She kissed him again and stepped away from him. "Goodbye, Greg. I will miss you."

House watched her put her helmet back on and ride out of his life on her cherry red demon, just like she had come into it four years ago. He swallowed hard, against the loss building in his chest. Another one he let slip through his fingers, another one he couldn't hold onto because of his own frailties and the inability to confront the emotional unknown. She had given him four opportunities, each year she had met him, but he sensed in her the desire to be free so he never pushed it. And now she was right, it was too late.

He had lost again. "Goodbye, Jayde."