A/N-This is the short story sequel to Aches and Pains. (four chapters max). You probably need to read that short story to understand this one. I was relatively happy with how Aches came out, this one is a bit less serious, although I hope it's still enjoyable.
So, this is still Season 3 alternate universe and follows directly after Aches and Pains
Thanks to Freya for providing some inspiration for this chapter, and I hope LapizSilkwood is a little less bored this Thursday (at least for the ten minutes it takes to read this chapter).
Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it!
Disclaimer-I still don't own the characters of House, MD, and there is still adult content throughout this story. This disclaimer applies to the whole story.
-Coming Home-
After the majority of House's pain was addressed through the innovative and experimental pain procedure Cuddy enrolled him in, realities came crashing back into their lives quite quickly. Cuddy was trying to run PPTH remotely through phone and computer, a feat that was impressive, and virtually impossible to maintain for long. After brain surgery, it was imperative that House's wound stay dry and clean, and all trauma be avoided. The surgeon was concerned about withdrawal symptoms if Vicodin was removed too quickly, so they decided that he would remain at the research facility while the small wound in his head healed. During the extra time, he could work with a physical therapist and the staff at the hospital could monitor him as they weaned him off of opiates.
Cuddy, on the other hand, could not spend three more weeks away from the hospital. There were disagreements between department heads that it seemed only she could mediate, staffing problems that desperately needed her attention, and a lawyer who was becoming increasingly insistent on a settlement for a former patient. It seemed it was for the best. When she left House's bedside late one night, they parted with a quick kiss and a promise to meet at the airport upon his return.
Cuddy's return to the hospital came with a frenzy. She wasn't fifteen feet inside the door when requests were being made, forms were being handed to her, and folders of pending issues were being placed all around her. The familiarity and intensity of work helped her get accustomed to normal life again. She was fine during the day, working until eight or nine at night to repair any damage that was done in her absence. Nights offered more time to think. At night, when things were quiet, she wondered about exactly what was going to happen when House returned. She was looking forward to his return, and yet, part of her wondered if he'd return and feel their affair was a mistake.
One morning, a little more than three weeks after she returned to New Jersey, House called her to tell her he was coming home. Cuddy was going to pick him up at the airport the next evening.
Instantly there were questions, uncertainty rolled in with affection and excitement, a feeling they so often had in regards to each other. She had no idea how things would be between them. She felt it was equally possible that he'd end it with her after spending too much time alone thinking, or they'd fall into each other's arms as passionately as they had a few weeks earlier, or they'd sit in the weird limbo they found themselves in for years. She pondered, fretted, theorized in every peaceful moment that day. During her dinner break, she walked past his office, telling his fellows that he was expected back soon, and when she saw his desk she decided, she was going to put herself into this again.
She worked late that night, until well after midnight, trying to get caught up in the hopes that their reunion the next night would go well, and she would be prepared enough at work that she wouldn't have to come in early the following morning.
The flight was long, and House had the same mix of anticipation and worry that Cuddy did. It had been years since there had been a woman picking him up at the airport. He assumed all along that she'd be outside, circling in her car. When he got off of the plane, and went to the baggage claim to gather his things, his heart thudded with uncertain excitement at the sight of her standing by the baggage carousel. She was fidgeting, pushing her hair back from her face, standing nervously, rolling her cell phone between hands that were clasped high in front of her stomach as she looked around in search of a familiar face.
He walked steadily closer, not even entirely sure what he was going to say to her once he was close enough for her to hear him. When she finally saw him, she smiled as her eyes drank in all that was different about him. His hands were shoved in his pockets, since he no longer carried his cane. He found his right hand was almost constantly in his pocket, as if he wasn't sure how to behave if it was free to use.
"Hi," he said nervously when he came near.
"Hi," she answered with returned nervousness. "You look good. How do you feel?"
"Long flight, but good."
She smiled broadly at him, and it was as if he suddenly remembered himself, "Which lucky bastard are you here picking up?"
She smiled, nodded toward the door, "Come on, lucky bastard."
They got his luggage, his cane jutting awkwardly out of his bag. They walked to her car in silence, with subtle body flirts but no actual discussion. She opened the trunk and he threw his bag in and walked to the side of the car. They both got in, both shut their doors, still awkwardly silent as she put her key in the ignition. Behind them, cars were backed up as they tried to leave the garage. She turned to him, "Is it always going to be awkward. If I work late on Wednesdays, will we have to break the ice each time? Sit in insecure silence until we try to get a read on each other?"
He glanced at her, "Small talk is not my thing. I can't talk about nothing if I'm busy thinking about something."
"What are you busy thinking about?" she asked, expecting the worst.
He took a deep breath, looking out the car window then back at her, "Hang on…I'm trying to warm up. Trying the normal thing. I read about this once. Talk about the weather, maybe, briefly, ask about work. Then eventually, after some mutual welcome-homing…I could casually mention that…I…can't stop thinking about you."
He could see the energy running through Cuddy as she nodded, her fingers dancing along the buttons of the radio simply because it was there to touch. She paused, with thought, then said, "It's been warmer than usual, tomorrow it's supposed to rain. Work is...under control. They miss you there."
"Do they?"
"Yea"
"Do you?"
"Possibly," she smirked knowingly.
House nodded, "It does feel warm…and I've actually missed work too. Well…parts of work."
"Now there was…one more step," she said, leaning closer across the seat, "Something between small talk about weather or work, and you thinking about me."
He smirked, he could actually feel her kissing him before she even got there. "You're right, there was something else, wasn't there? Another step?"
She nodded as he closed the remaining distance. His lips were parted slightly to capture hers, and she curled her tongue under his upper lip and felt his body almost pulse in response. In the next moment, her hand was along the upper part of his chest, grabbing a handful of shirt and pulling him closer. His one hand moved to cover hers, holding it tightly against him, the other slid up to her neck. They were kissing fully and slowly, tongues and breath mingling, lips sealing and pulling in ways that easily made them forget where they were.
"Maybe I do like small talk," he breathed when they parted.
"I don't know what book you read, but you're definitely good at it," she replied, smiling, closing the tiny distance again before returning to his mouth more eagerly.
His hand slipped under her arm, lifting her and pulling her over onto his lap. There was little room in her midsized car, but he needed to feel her closer to him. Her arms wrapped immediately around him, and he felt her automatically avoiding his right thigh. They really only had sex over a period of less than two weeks before they were separated by their circumstances, and she was already familiar with accommodating his disability. He couldn't help but smirk when he realized that he no longer needed to be accommodated.
She sighed, making the smallest approving moan, when his hand brushed against her side and his scruff rubbed along her neck. Finding her earlobe with his lips, he mumbled, "You don't have to worry."
"About?"
"My leg doesn't hurt," he said, shifting her roughly back so that her weight was distributed evenly on both legs.
"That doesn't hurt?" she said, pulling back as she asked.
His eyes met hers, almost happily, and found her lips again, his hand slipping under her shirt and feeling the span of her back, realizing that, in spite of the fear that things had somehow gone sour, he was probably going to have sex with her that night. After the obviously pleasant thoughts associated with having sex with her, were the possibilities of sleeping next to her, maybe even doing so on more than one night. Getting laid was amazing, but the realization that this might be the new normal was both exciting and strange.
His hand cupped her breast through her bra, feeling her nipple harden under his fingers, and he still felt surprised that she would so eagerly react to him. He pushed his fingers up under her bra, openly groaning at the feeling of her in his hand. She was breathing more quickly, and as her breath became more shallow, her kiss became more eager. He began to wonder what would happen if his hand left her breast and moved to her knee. Then he began to wonder what she would do if he moved his hand along her thigh, under her skirt. He felt a stab of excitement at the thought of letting his fingers slip past her panties to touch her unhindered.
As if reading his mind, she said in between sighs, "I'm not going to…have…sex with you in the parking garage."
"This is just the welcome home after small talk," he answered, "we'll schedule the sex for later."
Her hands were rubbing along his body, the occasional scratch of a fingernail on the fabric of his shirt felt oddly foretelling. She wriggled in his lap, her hand skimming along the waistband of his jeans, and she smiled as she felt how aroused he was already. From her spot on his lap he certainly couldn't hide that fact.
The loud blare of a car horn behind them, accompanied by a screaming and obviously angry man brought them to the moment. "I think he wants this space," Cuddy said, kissing House once more before sliding into her seat.
She pulled out of the spot and began the nearly hour long drive back to Princeton.
They were gone a few moments, and the next thing she knew, he said casually, "So, I'm taken care of…my missing chunk is still missing, obviously, but no longer painful or in any way debilitating."
"I'm really happy about that. I'm so excited for you."
"So what about you?"
"What about me?"
"I mean…what about what's missing for you. When are you gonna let me knock you up?"
Cuddy laughed with an awkward stutter, "Subtle, House. Let's talk about that some other time."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because it's a complicated subject"
"It isn't really"
"It is. This is a human being we're talking about. This doesn't just impact me. It affects you, and our potential child."
"We'll be fine."
"As what? I tried to explain this to you simply, I can have you as a boyfriend or as a donor, I can't do both. It's messy."
"Fine, dump me," he said grumbled.
"What?" Cuddy asked, frustrated and angry. "You'd just drop me like that? Thanks, I'm glad I meant something to you for the ten minutes since you arrived back home."
"You were the one who said you can't do both. So that means if you don't have a kid, you'll always think that the reason why you don't is because you have me. So it will be my fault you don't have one. Not only will I have failed to help you in your need, I will actually be part of the reason why that need was never met. Predestined. Relationship. Failure."
Cuddy practically growled, roughly gripping the steering wheel.
He added casually, "So does that mean I have to jerk off in a cup, or can we have sex a few times for old time's sake…and obviously for procreational purposes."
"See, I can never figure out if you want me or if you just want to fuck me."
"I was going for all of the above. You were the one who decided it had to be a choice."
"You didn't listen. We've been over this. You are always looking for ways to prove that I'm saying I don't want you. You want to hear me reject you…you look for it. Even when it isn't what I'm doing, just so you can be right."
"I'm not going to force you to choose between the baby you want and the guy you sort of want."
"I don't sort of want you. Would you actually listen…instead of automatically interpreting what I'm saying as a rejection?"
"You can try"
She huffed, and pulled off onto the shoulder of the I-95. Her car actually shifted to the side each time another car went past with a whoosh. "Thank you for being open minded and listening to what I'm actually saying," she said sarcastically.
He turned and looked at her, squeamishly. He was still expecting rejection. She wondered if he always would. "If you want, I'll get out. Call a cab."
"How is someone so brilliant…actually so stupid," she sighed, an irritated hand finding her creased forehead. "I was saying that if we have a relationship, I want a real one. I don't want you to have to tell the kid that you're mom's boyfriend, and the biological father, but you don't want to be the dad. That kid deserves you, I deserve you without arbitrary lines drawn to avoid bonds and connections. Trying to live half way in a relationship…now that is one that's doomed to fail."
He looked at her, brow furrowed, confused. "You…want me to be a dad?"
"If you want to be…yes. If you don't want to be…I don't want you to do it for me, then you'll feel trapped. I can find an anonymous donor. Neither of us should have to sacrifice who we are to be together. That's why it's too soon."
"Like a normal…dad?" he clarified, as if the idea had never existed in the realm of possibility before.
"No, not a normal dad. A…you dad. I won't be a normal mother. I think I'll be good at it. I think I'm ready, but I don't think conventionality is our strong suit."
House nodded, still processing.
Cuddy patted his leg and continued, "This is a lot…for you…for me…we can't expect ourselves to make these huge decisions in an instant, but I can't do something half way. I don't operate that way. And I don't think you can either."
"So what do we do? What about what you need. What about avoiding your future resentment of me?"
"What if…we try to have a relationship? A real one. For six months. Let's see if we can make something work."
"You want a baby…"
"I do," she said. "I want a child…so badly. But I want to make the right decisions. Good decisions. Responsible decisions."
"If you and I work out, then we can do this together. If not, if it crashes and burns and we can't be…coupled…I'll donate. No relationship, no complications, just a donation. A gift."
"You don't have to do that."
"I will. I want to. So either way, if it is possible, you get your kid."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. You helped me. Let me help you. Let me do this for you."
She nodded. "You don't have to repay me."
"It is not repayment. It's selfish. I…don't want to have to see you hurt."
"OK," she said, feeling emotions in every corner of her body, "but we…agree not to talk about it for six months, or every single conversation will evolve into this same discussion."
"OK," he agreed.
She pulled back out onto the highway.
"Are we…going to your place?" he asked when they neared the exit.
"Oh…um…I thought so. I can take you back to yours tomorrow…if you want to stay with me tonight."
"Sure," he nodded.
"I just…assumed…"
They were silent again, both slightly uncertain. "So your leg. It feels good?" she asked.
"Yea," he answered. "I need to keep exercising it. It's still weaker than the other one."
"Maybe I could help you," she said, a tentative flirt. "Strength training, stretching, repeated tests of endurance."
He smirked, nodding, "That sounds promising. Probably better than the physical therapist they've had me working with."
"Everyone in Germany was gorgeous. Let me guess…young, tall, buxom, tight body…"
"Are you jealous of a physical therapist?" he chuckled.
"No, I'm glad you feel better. But I was just wondering who's had her hands all over you," she teased. They had no idea how much exclusivity was involved, or how deep the feelings really ran, so they searched for clues in teases and flirts.
"Well…definitely young and tall…extremely tight body…"
"See"
"I have to say though…Trent's breasts had nothing on you."
Cuddy smirked, "A guy?"
"Yes," House nodded. "Never even offered a happy ending."
"Bastard"
"Right!"
"Although…I was unaware that happy endings were common after PT."
"And after all of that strenuous work…"
He was smiling, enjoying the fact that they were laughing, that she seemed a little more disarmed, and he rarely saw her disarmed, nor felt so disarmed himself unless he was alone, in his apartment with his piano.
"Does anyone at the hospital know about us?" House asked.
"Did Wilson hunt you down, relentlessly fishing for answers in a way that only Wilson thinks is subtle, before finally pleading with you to tell him what's going on?"
House smirked and shook his head, "You know Jimmy, And…no he didn't."
"Then no one knows."
"Do we have to keep it a secret?
"I thought we agreed that I wasn't supposed to say anything," Cuddy answered.
"We did. What about now?"
"I will go to HR tomorrow. Make sure we're good. Apart from that…instead of some…big announcement, I thought we'd just…be ourselves. If people find out…then they do. It won't take long. We don't have to deny anything."
"Seriously?"
"Yea," she nodded.
"So, when Wilson figures it out pretty much immediately and asks…"
"Tell him the truth. They're going to find out. Hiding it is pointless. Plus you'll just think I'm too embarrassed to admit that I'm seeing you…so there's another fight."
He shrugged, he knew she was right. "So no one knows."
"I said that no one at the hospital knows."
House grinned, "Who'd you tell?"
"My sister"
"And…"
"She said she didn't blame me. She thought you were pret-ty good looking."
"Is that exactly what she said? 'Pret-ty good looking…'"
"No," Cuddy answered, shaking her head.
"She said I was really fucking hot, didn't she?"
"How does someone with such…feelings of worthlessness…have such a colossal ego?"
"It's a special blend of dysfunction I developed just for me…not too sweet, not to tart…smooth on the tongue…smooth with the tongue…"
Cuddy grinned her disbelief. "Yea…she thought you were really fucking hot."
"Thank you," he said proudly, sitting back. "Anyone else?"
"One friend. I told one friend. She was excited for me. Someone from med school. You didn't know her. Are you upset that I said something?"
"Oh god, no. I was going to publish it. Get a website."
"Did you tell anyone?"
"Trent. And I may have mentioned it to one or two of the people at the research hospital."
"One or two?"
"Or…all of them."
She went around to the back of her home, pulling into the garage. He had never even been in there. In fact, he had barely spent any time in her home at all. He briefly stopped to wonder if that morning when he came to see her, when they kissed and nearly let their feelings get the better of them, was the longest he was ever in her home. Technically, he was uninvited at the time. He started to reach for the door handle as the garage door slowly shut behind them, and she grabbed his hand, scooting over onto his lap. "I don't know if I can wait until we get inside."
She moved the chair the whole way forward, then the seatback the whole way back. There wasn't much room, but she deftly had his pants undone before she dove forward to kiss him. His hands were on her, opening her shirt, unhooking her bra to move it out of the way, but never actually removing either item of clothing. He helped her get rid of her panties and watched while she pulled her skirt upwards over her hips. She reached for him, stroking him several times, more for the joy of touching him than to arouse him, he was already hard, but with each stroke he seemed to become harder, fuller, and more desperate.
She pushed him back, he was so tall that his upper body was partially in the back seat, slung over the back of the front seat at an odd angle. She asked momentarily if he was OK and he was so lost in her, he couldn't even fathom why she would think that he wasn't. She scooted forward, her own position awkward, but she didn't care. He stopped her, smirking, "You finally have me with a working leg…and you want to limit me to such a small space?"
She leaned forward, kissing him, "You're trusting me with your care…I know you have to warm up first, especially when you start a new program. Consult with your physician, stretch…" she wiggled into position before lowering her body down until he was completely inside her. "Ease into things," she sighed.
His head went back, dropping down onto the back seat entirely. "Feeling OK so far?" she asked, almost clinically.
He looked up at her, lifting his head, "So far, keep going."
She tipped her head back as her body lifted away, a rippling coordination of muscles as she separated their bodies and her head tipped slowly forward as she allowed her body to drop down again, swallowing him. His mouth was slightly opened, he watched her, deliberately, purposefully riding him. He could see her struggling to maintain a slow pace, she wanted to furiously fuck him as badly as he wanted to her. She picked up the speed, only slightly, "Is this still OK? Do you need me to stop?" she asked, remaining in character as the sexiest physical therapist he thought he'd ever seen.
"I'm tough," he answered, "I can take it."
She slowed again, "I don't want to overwhelm you."
"Overwhelm me," he grinned, moving her hips as he dug his heels into the floor of the car so he could meet her thrusts fully with his own. As hot as she was, as amazing as she felt, waiting there passively for her to fuck him wasn't something he was capable of at that moment. Maybe later, maybe next round, but right then, his need was screaming too loudly.
The lack of room was frustrating and he patted her thigh, asking her to move. He got out of the car, still only partially undressed and pulled her out, slamming the door shut. "I'm warmed up now, I'll be fine," he rasped lowly against her lips before their mutual possession began again.
The truth was that it had been weeks since they'd touched, weeks since they had even seen each other. When he began to climb out of the cloud of detox and his body began to feel better, he found himself thinking about her often. Remembering the things that they'd done, fantasizing about the things they hadn't done yet, and imagining many things that had little to do with sex as well.
Pushing her back against the car, he held her between his body and the side of the vehicle. She could feel the chill of the car and the car's window through her thin dress shirt, feel the cold against the bareness of her ass, and then the warmth of his body drawing closer. The next sensations were those she had been craving, the feeling of him entering her, of his body supporting her and conforming to her own shape. He was so thick and firm, his body insistent, both requesting and nearly demanding her to accept him. He looked down between them, and the sight was very nearly too much for him to take, his eyes moving to her opened shirt, the ill placed bra, seeing the way her nipples would occasionally skim or press into his chest. She was moaning, occasionally whispering his name, pleading for more of him, every sense was overwhelmed, heightened to a degree that was difficult to describe, or even imagine in any other scenario.
From her more wanton responses, he knew she was close. Cuddy did everything she did with a fullness of self, with a passion that he couldn't deny, but seeing her with him was entirely awe inspiring. There wasn't a single forced or artificial moan, nor were there stifled reactions. She was present and real, as honest and beautiful in fights and negotiation as in sex. She was also entirely honest in her displeasure when he thrust into her and remained almost perfectly still. "No more teasing," she groaned, as she pushed her back against the car to try to encourage him to move.
"Missed you," he said, slowly moving out of her.
Her expression softened, "I missed you too."
"I missed your body, you probably guessed that"
She half-smiled, "You seem to like it."
"It's the most amazing body I've ever seen," he complimented as he drove his body forward, steadily burying himself inside her again and locking their bodies together. She kissed him roughly, completely consumed with her desire, but he returned gentler kisses that were heartfelt but still too relaxed for her liking. "But…" he said as he repeated his motion a little more roughly, "I really missed the rest of you too."
She smiled, her kisses becoming more amorous than raw.
"When we were stuck in that little car, I kept thinking about you…while I was gone, relaxing in your bed, wondering if maybe you were thinking about me…about…this…" he asked, moving once again and picking up his pace just slightly because it was impossible not to.
"Oh, god. I've been thinking about you," she sighed, relieved that his pace was quickening, but still frustrated by the overall slowness.
"Me too…and in the car…I could barely move," he stammered as he was trying to speak. "I don't want our first…time… post-procedure…to be…disappointing."
She smiled through eyes heavy with desire "I am never disappointed."
She could see his attempts to stay calm and focused, and loved the fact that it was taking every ounce of strength to remain controlled. The man that so many people thought was impossible to get to was completely affected by her.
"Then quit messing around and fuck me," she smiled playfully.
He shook his head no, "Not tonight."
She was confused, convinced he was going to pull out of her, put her feet back down on the ground, and walk away, in some sort of game that would irritate her to no end, but he didn't.
"I'm all for fucking," he nodded, punctuating different words with kisses along her lips, her cheeks and neck. "But this time, I wanted to…tell you something."
"What?"
"Stop talking, I'll show you."
Her eyes glazed with confusion, passion and a depth of love that made her heart jump in fear as much as excitement. "OK…" she started, her voice shaky, "Show me."
He looked appreciatively down over her body, at the way their bodies joined, soaking in everything there was to look at about her. He bowed his head to kiss her chest and neck and shoulders, whatever he could reach as he began to move more steadily. She heard him sigh with relief that he was finally moving, his body seemed to almost vibrate with anticipation of his own. He became more determined, more fervent and devoted, but still lacked the ferocity of many of the encounters they had. His hands were comforting, welcoming, and she could feel the absolute adoration that he was conveying in everything that he did. He could feel it returned. She felt entirely worshipped by something she was similarly revering.
As their passion built in their bodies, their connection took on a life of its own without concern or interest paid to whatever their intentions were. Their bodies were entirely in control, no thoughts wasted on further teases or games, just actions and reactions, basic needs and rhythms that were as old as humanity, influenced by depths of emotion that neither acknowledged simply. When she whimpered at him a plea to never end his pleasant attack on her body, his eyes opened for a second, and created the smallest slivers between his eyelids. Their gazes met and the briefest look of desperation, affection and intense pleasure covered her face. Like the trigger that she had been waiting for, her body tightened and then exploded with sensation, her breath hitched as she gasped and he could hear her voice but had no idea what she was saying, if she was saying anything at all. If he could have planned it, he would have. He would have tried to time his own orgasm with hers, but his mind had ceased to be in control so long ago, he had no power over anything at that moment. He wasn't sure if her reaction tipped his, or if his reaction tipped hers, or if they truly just peaked at precisely the same moment, but he met the noises that emerged from her with his own, he sighed a low sound that turned into a growl that was simultaneously powerful and vulnerable.
They found and re-found each other for as long as they could before he helped her slide down the side of the car. Her feet on the ground, his body stooped to follow her, and they shared an affectionate and appreciative kiss before their eyes met again.
She brought him into her home as naturally as if he had always been welcomed there. After waking for sex sometime in the dead of night, he fell asleep while they faced each other. His arms, his torso, one leg, were all around her, the sensation of her bare body next to his as comfortable as the bed he was sinking deeply into. She surrounded him, the comfort of her home surrounded him, and he realized he could sleep like that every night.
The next morning was strange. He had clothes in his bag from his trip, and they both got ready to go back to work at the same time. Getting dressed for work together was oddly domestic and familiar, something that couples who lived together were used to, but the two of them definitely weren't, particularly not with each other.
They stopped at a coffee shop for a quick breakfast before work. They stood at the end of the counter, fixing their coffee to their liking and waiting for their breakfast orders. It was something so possibly platonic, but the flirtation and familiarity between them did not go unnoticed when Chase entered the same coffee shop for his own coffee that morning. He hadn't seen House for weeks. House was without his cane, standing in shockingly close proximity to his nemesis, Dr. Cuddy. Chase studied, doing his best to appear casual. There was nothing obvious to prove his suspicion. House and Cuddy weren't being openly affectionate, there was no abnormality in the way either was dressed. They weren't touching apart from a few incidental touches while handing off stirrers and napkins, but yet even incidental touches between the two were atypical. House and Cuddy rarely seemed to make actual physical contact, no matter how close they seemed to get to it. It could have easily been a coincidental meeting by two professionals at a coffee shop remarkably near where they both worked, but Chase couldn't shake his suspicions that it was just a bit too familiar.
If Chase had to predict the behavior of the two, if they accidentally would have met at that location while buying coffee, he pictured House either hiding or trying to embarrass Cuddy into leaving him alone, or Cuddy politely and professionally fleeing the scene before House could see her, or at least before he could make the embarrassing comment he would make if given enough time. They certainly weren't avoiding each other or embarrassing each other. Then Chase noticed that the perpetually observant House and chronically professional Cuddy hadn't even noticed that they were being watched.
Chase just wanted one thing, one piece of proof to hang his suspicions on. When the man behind the counter called out the order, House grabbed the bag, one large enough to contain items for both of them, and they both turned and left the coffee shop.
Within an hour, bets were being placed, and the hospital's most frequently speculated secret relationship was about to be more carefully watched than normal. The rumors around the hospital had existed for years. People speculated that they'd been a secret couple for a very long time, that they were occasional fuck buddies or former lovers, that they played some very serious private games, or that they only had sex when they were fighting. There was a recent rumor that the last loud fight they'd had before leaving, when she shouted, "I can't stand by idly while you do whatever you want," was actually a scream in the throes of passion behind her locked office door. Of course the most prevalent but less scintillating rumor was simple: they truly hated each other. Cuddy and House's relationship was so mysterious and strange that most of the rumors that existed about them were wrong until the day he went back to work after his procedure.
They had to stop by his place to get his employee ID, so Chase arrived at the hospital before they did. House took his own car, since they couldn't guarantee they'd finish work at the same time. Cuddy arrived first, House a few moments later. Attention wasn't paid to the relatively amazing sight of House walking around caneless again for the first time since the ketamine treatment, but everyone was watching him. He stood at the front desk, collecting mail and checking in and trying not to feel as if every set of eyes was on him.
There were far too many people standing, working or talking in or near the entrance to the hospital. "It went well, thanks for asking," House said loudly, walking a few steps, but it seemed people were still watching while trying to pretend they weren't watching. "We're hoping the solution is more permanent than the ketamine…"
Then Cuddy emerged from the elevator, walking toward her office when she saw him. When she got near she said, "I need to see you in my office, make sure everything's in order for your return."
And then she turned, noticing the group of onlookers, and she searched the crowd with curiosity. "Guess we can make some staffing cuts," she shrugged, "apparently I've hired too many people to fill the important role of 'Gawker.' You really only need two or three of them on payroll."
The staff scattered, quite obviously, as she shook her head. "Do you have a minute?" she asked him. "There are a few papers for you to sign, and I need your release paperwork to send down to HR."
House nodded, a bit disconcerted. As soon as they walked into her office, she closed the door, and reached up to kiss him briefly but affectionately, "Welcome back," she whispered, finally drawing a smirk from him.
A single kiss from her made everything in his universe feel aligned.
She patted his arm and walked behind her desk while he stood in front, watching her. "Any chance I can get a welcome back blow job at the office?"
She tapped her lips in feigned thought, then shook her head, and said with a smirk, "Not a chance, House."
"I'll do you first," he tried as he sat down.
"Still no"
"I'll do you only," he offered, a last ditch effort to halfheartedly convince her.
"Strangely, still no," she smiled. "But I admire your persistence."
"Ah ha," Wilson shouted as he emerged from the bathroom, an accusatory finger pointing back and forth between both of them.
"What are you doing in my bathroom?" Cuddy asked as she stood up from her chair.
"Washing my hands?" Wilson asked a question instead of answering one.
"In my…personal bathroom?"
"I have a meeting with you this morning," Wilson attempted to justify.
"In my office, not in my bathroom…and not for another half hour," she said as she looked at her watch.
"Why didn't you guys tell me?" Wilson asked, his voice hurt.
"Tell you what?" House asked.
"That you're…dating…or whatever it is that you are doing."
"What are you talking about?" House feigned innocence.
"I heard your conversation"
"Cuddy's been turning down my offer to let her blow me in her office for years. Nothing's changed."
"There's also some rumors…that you got coffee together this morning?"
"If that means House and I are sleeping together, what exactly does it mean if the two of you have been getting lunch together for years?" Cuddy asked. "Or…that you lived together."
"She knows about us, Wilson," House jabbed while Wilson groaned his disgust.
"The rumor goes beyond coffee," Wilson tried.
"Is it the one about my eighteen inch penis?" House asked.
"No, House," Wilson replied.
"Is it the one about her eighteen inch penis?" House asked Wilson, pointing to Cuddy.
Wilson buried his head in one hand. "Cuddy, please. You are the voice of reason in this room. The truth? Please?"
Cuddy folded her arms and leaned on the surface of her desk. "OK, you're right. You deserve the truth."
"Thank you," Wilson said victoriously, gloating at House before looking back to Cuddy.
She breathed out a slow, thoughtful exhalation and then said, "It's just a rumor."
"Oh," Wilson answered, disappointed that they weren't dating.
"His penis isn't really eighteen inches…it's a slight exaggeration. But really…eighteen inches sounds more grotesque than exciting anyway."
House scratched his nose to hide a snicker while Wilson cringed. "You guys suck."
Cuddy continued, "Besides, one day you guys will learn…it isn't just length that matters. Eighteen inches long and pencil thin is probably a significant disappointment for most women."
Wilson was a horrible combination of embarrassed and frustrated, "OK…fine, I don't need to hear this. This is none of my business."
The smirk left Cuddy's face, "You hide in my bathroom in an attempt to gather evidence, while poking your nose into my sex life…and now it's none of your business."
"Sorry," Wilson replied as he sat down in front of Cuddy's desk next to House. "I was happy for the two of you. I really was. When Chase said you guys were getting coffee…"
House smirked, "So Chase is behind this latest spreading of information."
"And the pool," Wilson said. "And it's…a big one. Everybody's in."
Cuddy shook her head, "All of these people on my payroll getting paid to bet on whether House and I are…dating?"
"Most bets say just sex," Wilson said.
"I will never understand why everyone is so fascinated by this," Cuddy mumbled.
"Are you kidding?" Wilson said. "The two of you focus so much of your unsatisfied sexual energy on each other that it's bound to cause an explosion at some point. This hospital and staff are just waiting for your interpersonal Mt. Vesuvius to blow and cover the rest of us in…lava and ash."
Cuddy was blinking, wordlessly considering Wilson's words.
"Ya know…" House suggested, "by his description, we sound pretty hot, what do you say we get rid of this idiot and revisit that whole…blowing thing."
Cuddy shook her head, looked at him over her hand, and then looked at Wilson. "Let's just get this over with. House and I are dating. We have no interest in sharing the intimate details of our interactions with everyone, so the hospital…and its staff…are going to have to act like big boys and girls and stop this insane gossiping. So fine, we'll clear the air, tell them it's true, and move on."
"I'll need proof," Wilson said. "I mean…I believe you of course."
"Come on, woman," House said, "Let's go do it in the lobby and let the staff take pics."
"Highly likely since I already nixed the whole blow job in the office thing," she answered dryly. "Again I'll revisit the possibility that people act like professionals. I'm not here to answer their rumors or settle their bets."
"House...there's money to be made…minds to mess with…" Wilson said as Cuddy shot him visual daggers.
"There are minds to be messed with," House nodded. "Which means…we do exactly what we decided to do last night. Nothing's changed. We do nothing. We do…whatever we'd do anyway. Let them speculate…look for proof. We're both used to people staring at everything we do anyway."
"Are you serious?" Cuddy asked, leaning forward.
"Why not? You…get to maintain your professional cool, I get to watch people squirm…and watch my fellows go crazy looking for answers. We're both happy."
"OK," Cuddy answered.
"Act like you would, tell people, don't tell people, it doesn't matter," House said. "They're expecting an announcement. Proof. We won't give it to them."
Cuddy smiled, "I love it."
"Wait," Wilson said, "I have money on this. If I have proof, I win. I'll split it with you."
"I think entertainment value with my team far surpasses whatever money I stand to make," House replied.
"I'm one of the only ones who bet that there was more than sex…that you guys were actually a thing…doesn't that count for something?" Wilson asked.
"It shows you're a great friend," Cuddy answered with a condescending smile.
"You want to have lunch today?" House asked Cuddy.
"Me?"
"Yea. Cafeteria. You and I. Let me know what time."
"OK," she said. "So you aren't going to say anything?"
"Oh god, no. I'm going to tell everyone I see. I just doubt they'll believe me."
They did meet for lunch. That day, and almost every day. Cuddy still tore down the halls to his office with administrative rage in her step, House still snuck away to empty exam rooms to nap, and they still screamed at each other when they were on opposite sides of the same argument, but they met for lunch. The first few days, it was practically a frenzy of activity around them as people tried to get a peek at whatever was going on. One of them always bought lunch for the other, and the truth of the matter was, House buying her lunch baffled everyone who couldn't decide if it was a red herring or a romantic gesture to such a degree that it seemed to cause more speculation than the actual question of whether or not they were dating.
On their fifth lunch together, House reached half way across the table, palm up. Wilson was at the table with them, his eyes darting from House's offered hand to Cuddy's idle one. She reached out and took his hand. Just for a few moments, their fingers met, intertwining and brushing. The moment was brief and uncomfortably intense for Wilson, but it seemed they couldn't do anything without it looking blatantly sexual, perhaps, in some ways, because it always was with them.
A week later, when House had to work late, and she was ready to leave, she went to his office, and gently kissed his cheek before she left for the night, even though his team was in the next room. They made the slightest gestures toward each other, things that they could have easily done just to screw with people, but enough that suspicions remained raised. They did the things they were comfortable enough doing anyway. For a couple completely in the public eye, they were remarkably private.
Six months went by and they continued as they had been. It became common knowledge around the hospital, but some people still chose to speculate that it wasn't real or that it was something strange or fake clothed in a normal relationship.
True to their agreement, neither mentioned the possibility of a child during that time. Their relationship was less than perfect, but worlds better than bad, and they seemed to find something that, although unconventional, worked for them. House had to accept or avoid aspects of Cuddy's more controlled lifestyle, Cuddy had to deal with his more haphazard and untidy way of life, but day after day, they remained together. Their sweetest moments were quiet and secret, but the respect that they had for each other at home subtly crept into all of their interactions. They maintained separate residences, but spent most nights together at one of them. Things were, on the surface, casual, but privately quite serious.
"Check this out," House said, nodding toward the operating theater when Cuddy came to find him one afternoon. "Is that not the most gigantic testicle you've ever seen?"
Cuddy stood next to him, one of her crossed arms brushing his, peering down into the room. "Jealous?"
"It's mostly a gigantic tumor. So no."
She smiled, "You're busy, I'll talk to you later."
"I really don't think I did anything," he answered, his eyes were focused on the theater in front of him, but his expression remained sincere.
"It's personal," Cuddy said, "You free after work today?"
"As long as the patient doesn't have any surprises for me, yea," he nodded as she walked to the door to leave. Then suddenly his mind engaged what she had said, and he began to worry, "Wait. Is everything OK?"
"Everything's fine."
A realization hit him. She wasn't sure if it was the way she walked or spoke or smiled that clued him in, or if maybe, he was secretly able to hear the thoughts in her head. "It's been six months," he said, turning fully away from the operating room and facing her.
She turned back around and faced him, folding her hands securely in front of her. "It has."
"Six months, two weeks and some change," he clarified. "This discussion is overdue."
"It is. I'll…see you after work."