Title: You Were the One (Chapter 2)
Author: Sassydew
Rating: T
Disclaimer: The characters belong to David Shore, et. al. I'm just borrowing them so that I can satisfy my desire to know what happened with House and Stacy BEFORE...

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Where Ch. 1 ended:

He nods at her curtly. She puts out her cigarette in a standing ashtray and walks past him into the sea of tables and dancers. He watches her until Wilson comes out of the bathroom. "Who's the beautiful brunette?" he inquires.

"Nobody," House says gruffly, and he and Wilson begin to make their way back to the rowdy group of inebriated groomsmen.

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When Stacy returns to the table, she is flabbergasted to see that everyone has left. It's as if they never knew she was there to begin with! She is seething with anger as she makes her way over to the bar. "Scotch on the rocks," she calls as she hops onto the stool. As soon as it arrives, she downs the amber liquid all at once and frowns when it burns her throat.

"Better watch out! Don't want your face to freeze like that!" She turns to see that the man she just left at the vending machine has now settled onto the stool next to her.

"What are you doing here? I said --"

"You said you had to join your colleagues. I happened to notice that they are no longer here. So I thought maybe now I could buy you a drink after all."

She's about to tell him to leave her alone, but she's not sure that she wants to be alone. And again, when their eyes meet she's captivated. She can't deny that she feels attracted to him. So she says she'll have another scotch. He motions for the bartender to come over and orders them each one.

"You're not going to get the promotion, you know," he tells her. "It's a man's world."

She doesn't need this shit. "If you're trying to cheer me up, try harder," she says as she looks him in the eye. She's hoping he actually will say something to elevate her mood.

"You should use your assets to your advantage," he continues. "Sleep with your boss."

"Yeah, right!" she snorts. "Even if I didn't have any qualms about doing something so ludicrous, I have three bosses, the senior partners of the firm: Merry, Laurie, and Lowe."

"So sleep with all of 'em – Larry, Curly, Moe, the janitor, whoever. I think women ought to be willing to do whatever it takes to get ahead," he smirks.

She can't help laughing when she pictures her bosses as the Three Stooges. And something in the way he says this tells her that he is, indeed, joking.

"Sadly, none of them is really my type," she says as the bartender places another scotch in front of her.

"Am I your type?" he asks her in a serious tone of voice.

She leans her face close to his, looks him in the eye, and says in a low voice, "Why are you asking?"

He is flustered. He looks down into his glass, takes a swig, and asks her for more details about her job. He's always been good at deflecting anything he doesn't really know how to talk about.

They talk for the better part of an hour. Actually, Stacy does most of the talking. She vents about her job and Greg listens and asks questions, subtly redirecting any of her inquiries about him with jokes. He is impressed with her obvious intelligence and drive, as well as her ability to remain articulate while slightly intoxicated. She likes his eyes, smile, and acerbic wit.

She looks at her watch. "Oh, I really should get going. It's been nice talking to you…uh…"

"Greg," he supplies.

"Greg. Thank you for the scotch – and for listening…"

"De nada," he tells her, and then, "It's late; I should walk you to your car."

She's attracted to him. And she realizes at this moment that she was sort of hoping he would ask for her number. Maybe he will, she thinks, while he walks her to her car. So she nods and he follows her out.

They walk in silence and when they get to her car, she says, "Here it is. Thanks." He nods.

She stands with her back against the driver's side door and makes no move to unlock her car. He stands in front of her and looks down into her eyes for what seems like a really long time, but probably is only a few seconds. She really wants him to kiss her. He wants to kiss her and thinks she wants him to. Finally he bends down and presses his lips on hers gently. She responds instantaneously, opening her mouth as his tongue pushes past her lips. Then his hands are on her hips and his body is pressing into hers. The kiss becomes deep and demanding. She feels lightheaded and pulls back, gasping for air. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and takes several deep breaths while he watches for her reaction. Before she has time to think, she hears herself speak. "My place?" she asks.

"I think mine's closer – only a few minutes away," he says in a low voice. "You drive." They get into her car and, aside from Greg giving her directions to his house, they ride in silence.

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Greg unlocks the door to his townhouse and enters with Stacy right behind him. He abruptly stops and turns around. He reaches past her shoulder and locks the door. Their eyes lock for a single, heated, electrically charged moment. Then Greg pushes her hard up against the door with the length of his body and kisses her passionately.

Stacy has a moment of doubt. She hardly knows this man, and she's not in the habit of going home with men she's only just met. She really should leave…but, God…she wants him. And she can feel just how much he wants her. And her mouth and body are responding completely independently of her half formed thoughts…

Greg pins her hands above her head and against the door and hungrily places wet kisses on her neck. She moans softly which, if possible, arouses him even more than he already is. Oh, God. He needs her. Now.

He releases her hands and begins to deftly unbutton her suit jacket, stopping only long enough to allow her to pull his t-shirt off over his head. They fervently continue to undress each other, leaving a trail of clothing in their wake as they make their way to Greg's bedroom. What follows is intense, wild, passionate.

Immediately afterward, satisfied and thinking a bit more clearly, Stacy begins analyzing the situation – it's in her nature. This occurrence can be chalked up to any number of reasons, she thinks. She was vulnerable, desperate, lonely…he was there…they were both hungry, needy…yet she feels something else…and she's trying to work out just what that is when, of all things, he tells her to leave.

At first Greg thinks he brought her home out of a need for a warm body, any body, really; it's a one-night stand, tension relief, a bit of transitory pleasure. But something moved him deep inside when they made love… and this scares the shit out of him. He turns to look at her. She is on her back next to him, still flushed and breathing heavily. He thinks how beautiful she looks there in his bed, and, again, he feels that same….something…deep within. Oh, crap, he thinks. So he does the only thing he can do. "Okay, leave now," he tells her.

She turns on her side to look at him, but he stares straight up at the ceiling. Her eyes grow wide in disbelief. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but can only shake her head incredulously.

"Thanks. It was fun. B'bye." He tells her, still staring at the ceiling.

"Well….you're…I mean…you don't need to treat me like…like a…a common prostitute!" she screams as she jumps out of the bed. She is furious as she walks through the townhouse trying to locate her scattered clothing. She puts on just enough to be decent and walks out, slamming the front door as hard as she can. She bursts into tears when she is safely inside her car. She feels like an idiot! What was she expecting? She is just going to forget this whole terrible night ever happened, she tells herself…

(To Be Continued...)