A/N: Kutner's suicide was never explained, and when they showed the funeral, Taub was not there. It surprised me, since they were being all buddy-buddy as the seasons were going on. It inspired me to create this slashfic, Reason, explaining what pushed Kutner to suicide and why Taub was absent from his funeral. It IS slash, those who do not like that sort of thing, leave now. Those who are still here, enjoy. R&R.

Reason

I didn't go to the funeral. I couldn't go. The guilt was too much to handle, like the weight of one thousand worlds perched on my back. He would've wanted me there, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was my fault. Completely my fault. Everything has a reason. I just wish it wasn't me this time.

"Okay, 13 get a cat scan on Mrs. Pigpen, check her white blood cell count for any sign of infection, who knows what kind of things are lurking in that trash she calls a body." House was his normal, cynical self, Thirteen was rolling her eyes and Foreman was protesting for another test. All the while I was mulling over my dinner date with Kutner tonight.

Well, it wasn't really a dinner date per say; we were going to go out and get shit-faced and have some wings from this sports bar near Kutner's place. We were just gonna chill, talk about life and all it's sucky glory.

"Taub, please inform Man-in-African-American that if we biopsy her brain, we'd be putting even more pressure in that swellin' melon of hers."

"I'm just saying, if it's syphilis, we may be able to catch it early."

Kutner blurted out, "We can place a shunt in her head, and then we can relieve the pressure and biopsy. Medicine won't take all the pressure. Why not?" House chewed at his lower lip.

"Good. What he said. Oh, 13, do that cat scan anyway, keeping the women busy is my specialty." He winked at Thirteen, who rolled her eyes yet again. We all left to start the test and prep her for a shunt.

Kutner walked up next to me, nudging me with his elbow.

"So, you ready for our dudetastic night?" Kutner cooed giving me a cheesy smile and chuckling at himself, his feet almost bouncing as he stepped.

"Don't be like that. It's just a few beers and some wings. What if House saw you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Skipping as he asked.

"That. Skipping, hopping, bouncing. Whatever it is you're doing, stop it."

Kutner shot me a pouty face as we parted ways. I watched as he left, the entire way, until I bumped into an RN.

Where is he? He was 45 minutes late, the bastard. I knocked back another Tequila shooter and checked my watch again. My mind kept shouting and screaming questions. What the hell, he knows the arrangement, why the fuck is he late?

The bar door swung open and Kutner surveyed the bar, when his eyes caught me, a huge smile erupted onto his face, and he gestured at me with a raised arm and proceeded to shuffle his way to the bar. When he sat down, I glared at him, making his smile drop to the floor.

"What?"

"You're late." I said, signaling for the bartender.

"I'm sorry, I ran into an old friend from high school a few blocks away, I forgot to call. I'm really sorry." He ordered a Heineken; I ordered a Rum and Coke, to ease the tequila overload.

"Next time, don't be late." I moaned gravely.

After a bucket and a half of wings, and a little under a dozen drinks between the two of us, Kutner and I were very drunk and I was arguing with the bartender about my keys.

"I'm tellig you, I'm noc too drunk to drive. Now gib my keys, and we can jus' go 'ome." I slurred, grabbing at the bartender.

"C'mon Chris, let's go. I walked here, we can walk. Is cool." Kutner waved to the bartender—who was giving me the stink eye—and wrung me by the collar with his other hand, pulling us out of the smoky bar.

"Wum 'bout my car!" My words sputtered out of my mouth, clumsy and childish, and fell hard on the grimy pavement.

"Leave it; we'll get it in the morning. I promise." He kissed my forehead and set us on our way to his loft.

When we arrived at Kutner's apartment, we stumbled in and struggled to the couch, plopping down and staring at the black television.

"Wanna watch some Star Wars?" He offered, blinking at the TV sluggishly, like time was slowing down.

"I'm not watching nerdy movies when I'm drunk." After grumpily exclaiming this, Kutner turned to me and just stared at me, eyes hazy with alcohol.

"What?" I barked, rubbing my forehead.

"I've always liked your nose." His voice was calm and sweet, and though his eyes were glassy and distant, they had a kindness in them.

"You're a fan of big noses." I asked—suddenly I had the strangest mental image of an industrial-sized fan made of noses—as I rested my elbow on the back of the couch, resting my head in my hand.

"I don't have a problem with them. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm sure your wife loves it, but if she doesn't, know that I do…" He awkwardly drifted off, looking down at the coffee table.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, fearful of the answer.

He turned to look back at me and leaned forward, "I don't know…"

"Kutner?" I asked scooting back, falling on the arm of the couch. He seized this opportunity and crawled on me, slowly—he'd probably puke if he went any faster.

His eyes closed and his lips fell on my neck, nuzzling me and sinking his body into mine. This was the weirdest thing that ever happened to me, but oddly enough, I found myself enjoying it. It was human contact, why would it be any different from any other person? I opened my mouth to speak, but I was stopped by Kutner's, overtaking mine. He tasted like beer and buffalo wing sauce, it wasn't the best flavor, but I didn't care, it was a kiss.

His hands were creeping up my shirt, slowly prying the buttons from their fastened state; he took it from me and tossed it to the floor. His mouth ran up and down my chest, sloppy kisses and breaths coming out and spilling over me. I couldn't think straight, everything was happening too fast, a blur.

The next think I knew, Kutner's face was over my crotch, his hands were pulling my jeans down. Sighing, I spread my legs a little wider, giving him better access. I wanted to watch, oh, I really did, but I figured the motion would get me nauseous. At first he only nuzzled my thigh; kissing it, licking it. After a while he started, first at the tip, like any man would. He was sure to not just plunge in; he might vomit and then it might really be awkward.

His tongue was smooth and—surprisingly—talented, tip to base to tip again. The motion was fluid and arousing. I placed my hand on top of his head, gripping at his dark locks as his lips and tongue worked on my throbbing hard-on. All my nerve endings were sparking, dizzying warmth was washing over me and my breath was getting short and labored.

"K-Kutner…" I moaned, close to climax. He mumbled over my cock and it threw me over the edge, coming instantly. Slowly, he lifted his head and swallowed while staring me straight in the eye, licking his lips afterwards. It seemed that every, little gesture he made, every tiny thing he did was so overwhelmingly adorable. I grunted, climbing atop him and we went on to make out for quite some time. And when we stopped kissing, we went to his room and took the plunge.

Around 3:30 AM, we were lying in his sheets, kissing and wrapped up in each other's arms. I stopped, sober and fuzzy, and Kutner looked at me questioningly.

"What's wrong?"

"Can I take a shower?" He smiled at me.

"Of course you can. I'll walk you back to your car when you're done." I said that was fine, kissed him one last time and showered.

While the hot water ran over me, I started to think of my wife. I've already cheated on her, and she's forgiven me once. Who's to say she wouldn't do it again? Eventually, I thought grimly, but how long, I asked myself. No, this was different than the first time, very different. I wouldn't tell her. It would never come up, it was a onetime thing. That's all. That's it.

The drive was silent, my thoughts hung over my head, cycling, the couch, the kiss, the blowjob, the sex itself, my wife; it all just kept spinning around inside my brain. I'd fooled around with guys in my college days, ass grabbing, kissing, but never had sex with another guy, not all the way, at least.

It wasn't bad. It wasn't the best but it wasn't terrible. Kutner's groans and sighs were cute, he wasn't just making me do all the work, we moved together, like a team. My wife never does that, it's mostly me in the sack.

I shook off the memories and headed into my house; luckily, my wife picked up a late shift, she wasn't there to see me get home at almost 5 in the morning.

When my head the pillow, I crashed, just done with thinking about it all.

"I'd like to thank to thank me and only me for the life saved on Friday. I worked my butt off and the rest of you ducklings went home to milk and bedtime stories. Next time, put forth a bit more effort into your work and you might just get some cookies for that milk." House was in a particularly bad mood this Monday morning.

"Chocolate chip or peanut butter?" Kutner chimed in, grinning like he always does, childishly.

"Ha! That was so funny! Since you're in such a good mood today, go run Mr. Tomlinson's tox screen. Give him broad spectrum antibiotics for his infection."

Kutner's smile faded as he stood and promptly obeyed House's orders.

"Taub, join him. 13 and Amber, go get his history, bribe him with shiny things so we know he's telling the truth." House sunk in his chair after swiftly limping to his office. Amber quickly ran to Hadley's side, like the puppy she was.

As Kutner and I ran our patient's labs, he sat and stared at me.

"Yes?" I asked with arms crossed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"It was kind of a big deal, don't you think we should discuss it's repercussions?"

"Nope," I looked over at the machine in front of Kutner, because he certainly wasn't looking at it as it went off. "Test's done."

He looked, "Negative. Why not?" He was getting frustrated.

"Because it was a onetime thing, that's why. It's nothing to talk about." I growled, unintentionally.

"Onetime thing? What if…what if I don't want it to be a onetime thing?"

"Poor you. I have a wife, one I already cheated on for the record." By this point in the conversation I was standing, nose to nose with Kutner, getting frustrated as well.

For a long beat, we stood and stared at each other angrily, but spontaneously, as if something sparked between us, our mouths collided, our teeth clinked, hands grabbing at the other' lab coat.

I pulled him over to one of the lab's storage rooms and slammed the door behind us. The two of us kissed and fondled each other for a good five minutes, until I unfortunately pushed him into the doorknob.

"Ow! Shit! Why'd you do that?"

"I didn't mean to!"

There was an awkward pause that becoming quite suffocating, until Kutner broke the silence.

"Does this really have to be a onetime thing? I…I really enjoyed our-"

"Ah!" I let go of Kutner's hip and held up my hand, "Don't say it." I sighed heavily and let my hand drop to my side.

"Look, if we're going to be continuing this, we've got to be careful. Only when my wife picks up late shifts, no sleeping at each other's places and no talking about it. Ever. Got it?"

Kutner nodded and kissed me softly, tugging at my lapel in delight. Before slipping out of the room, he rubbed his back and mumbled as he returned to Houses office.

This was going to be very interesting.

Almost a year past and things were going well. Amber died and it kept the team from finding out about Kutner and me; we were hooking up every other weekend, or whenever my wife was working late. House and Wilson had been fighting, but they're lovey-dovey again.

But things were happening under my roof as well.

It was after dinner; Rachel and I were cuddled up in bed, watching an old Kenny Rogers movie, when she had to say the words that would ruin everything.

"I want kids."

"What? Where did that come from?" I asked, eyes glued to the screen.

"I saw Jenna the other day, she and Amelia just had their second. It's a boy and he's so precious. I keep thinking that our situation right now is perfect for a baby; we've been stuck in neutral for too long. We need something to kick start our lives back into motion. C'mon, I know you want to be a dad." She was kissing my chin and cheek, snuggling closer.

She was right; I did want to be a dad. But she didn't want a baby, at least, until now. Why now? I guess she really is fed up with the rut we've walked ourselves into. But, if she really did want to have a baby with me, this thing with Kutner would have to stop.

The team had solved yet another medical mystery and Kutner and I were eating lunch in the cafeteria.

"Personally, I think that Hayden Christensen was too good to be the epitome of evil. Like, say, Jonathan Rhys Myers or Chris Evans would have been 10 times more sinister, y'know?" Kutner was babbling and I was stuck in a perpetual loop: If I have kids, Kutner has to go. If Kutner stays, I'll ruin my marriage. If I ruin my marriage, I won't have kids.

"Chris? Taub? Hey, bud, anybody in there?" Kutner reached over the table and poked the tip of my nose.

"What, oh, sorry, I was thinking."

"About?" Kutner snacked on a pretzel and smiled that little smile of his.

"Nothing. Let's go." Kutner figured by the 'let's go' part, I was most likely thinking about sex and that we were going to have some no matter what he said. Knowing this, I used it to prolong the inevitable train wreck that was coming down the tracks.

At Kutner's place, things proceeded like usual: we started kissing, we fondled and touched, then undressed, but this time I felt something nagging at me, pulling my focus away from Kutner and placing me in the wife and kids part of my mind.

"No, Kutner, stop. Hold on." I pulled him from his knees and sat him next to me on the couch, where he pushed to kiss my neck and earlobe.

"Hey, hey. Please stop, we need to talk."

"About what? I'm horny." He bounced in place like a child in protest.

"I know but please, I've got to get something off my chest."

"What is it?" Kutner's childish demeanor dissolved into genuine concern, because of the look in my eyes and tone of my voice.

"I…don't think we can…do this…anymore…" I drew it out as long as I could, but it still had to be said.

"What are you saying? We're splitting...Why? What happened? What did I do?" Kutner's sweet eyes were filling with innocent disappointment and hurt—I was fairly surprised at how much this really affected him, was he in love with me?

"You didn't do anything, Kutner. My wife—"

"Your wife?"

"My wife started talking to me about kids—"

"Kids?"

"And I was thinking that this is good—"

"Good?"

"Please stop doing that, Kutner. Yes, it's good that my wife and I are moving forward in our relationship. Things are going better. This has been nice but, you had to of known it was going to end. It was just a fling. And I feel that if it's time to move forward…" He shot me another agonizingly, pain stricken stare.

"I can't stay with you." I could hear his heart breaking, I could almost hear him screaming and cursing, I could almost see him throwing furniture and pushing me out off the loft. But, with that look on his face, I could practically hear him begging or pleading, or trying to seduce me back into his arms, anything to keep us together. But he didn't do any of those things, he sat quietly and pondered. He just sat there staring at the floor. I held my breath, not sure what was going to happen, and I didn't want to say anything else that would hurt him.

After a century, he spoke. "I'll see you tomorrow. Don't forget your coat." He rose from the couch and walked calmly to the kitchen, filling a glass with water. I left promptly, and didn't look back.

On my car ride home, I sat and thought of that look in his eyes as I broke his heart. I thought this relationship was all about the sex, but that look. That look made me think that he really was falling for me. I liked Kutner, but I wasn't in love with him. It was nice while it lasted. That look; maybe he's just shocked, and he'll get over it. But that look; I just hoped that he'd be okay and move on from this. It was just sex, right?

We all sit in silence, everyone's minds were asking the same questions, with the why and how this could have happened. I knew, but I couldn't say a word. An invisible hand cupped my mouth and threatened me into not speaking a word of that why and how. I might as well have shot him myself.

Everything has a reason; I just wish that, this time, it wasn't me.

End.