DISCLAIMER: I do not own House or any of the other characters. I just find him sexy as hell and am a serious Huddy believer. ( I guess it is Hugh Laurie that is sexy, but who is going to deny that?) Anyway...This is only my third fic, so be gentle.. Reviews are awesome.

POKER FACE

It was dark. House hadn't realized that he had been sitting here, on the same park bench for over three hours. There was no longer anybody in the field or on the bike path. Not that he minded, he liked being alone. He used to come to this park to clear his head. That was before his stay at Mayfield. He'd been back in Princeton for almost a week now and he felt good. Physically, the pain was still there and it always would be but he felt calmer, more at peace with himself. He still loved to cause craziness and terrorize. He especially loved to terrorize her. Her image floated into his mind, and tonight he didn't mind having her there. She was the reason he came here.

He needed to figure things out, He needed to figure her out. Sometimes he doubted that this would ever happen. Not that the mystery was a bad thing. He liked trying to figure out what makes her tick. She was more than a conquest. She was a puzzle, the jigsaw of them all and House loved puzzles.

At Mayfield he'd gotten a taste of something he never wanted to go through again. It had left him feeling bitter and alone. It hurt. Almost. He had finally let someone in, someone beautiful, caring and talented. Someone who reminded him too much of her. She had led him on. Used him. Then left. That was it. Could he trust his administrative wonder not to do the same. He didn't think he could handle it if she did. He wasn't sure about anything really. He was starting to think that maybe she could be good for him. But a part of him always knew that. He just didn't know if he could be good for her. After all these years, she hadn't killed him yet, which was a good sign if you asked him.

His mind began to wander again. This time to all the times when he had a chance and blew it. Every time. His brain began a list on its' own accord. First, the kiss after she lost Joy. She hadn't pressured him into that. He hadn't been pressured by anything, there was no ultimatum. He kissed her. He had started it. At the time he hadn't known why, he wasn't even sure that there was a reason. Now, his brain (or was it is heart?) let him know differently. He didn't like seeing her devastated like that. Like her whole world had been ripped out from underneath her. He didn't like it at all. He had wanted to take her pain away. He figured if he shared her pain(House, wanting to share? He knew that wasn't like him.) then maybe he could begin to understand it. He detested not being able to understand things. And apparently her lips and tongue were the way to do that.

Her lips. Oh God.

House shook his head fighting to stay focused. He needed to figure this out before it was too late. He remembered the next day when she tried talking to him about it. He brushed her off, said it was nothing. He had actually let her make an excuse for him. He was that much of a coward.

His mind shifted again and it brought in the moment in his office which they had been sharing. She had tried to tell him that he had the hots for her. He hadn't denied it. And he had accused her of the same. She had responded with hopeful eyes. Trying to move forward. Twenty long years was enough foreplay for her. He had acted dumb, again, and objectified her as a sex thing. He fondled her and regretted it when he saw her face. She turned to walk out and he hadn't removed his hand from her breast. For a split second he was almost brave enough to give her what she deserved. The truth. He had wanted to pull her back against his chest and let her know that contrary to popular belief, he was not made of stone. That he did want her, that he really did need her.

God, he needed her.

House had been fine being alone. Always had. He had Wilson for everything other than sex and he had a credit card for that. He didn't think he had any other choice until now.

Now he was starting to think or feel differently. He wasn't sure which. She was smart. And if she cared about him, maybe even loved him enough to put up with him for over two decades then maybe he ought to give her something in return. She deserved that.

Without the artificial happiness from the Vicodin pumping through his system, he wanted the real thing.

He could get used to not using a poker face. Or maybe he'd keep it and teach her to see through it. To tell that he is bluffing and that he has been, for as long as he could remember.

He was ready for it. More than that, he was ready to admit it.

A/N: Reviews are great. It's time to shine! Hope you liked it..I liked writing it.