Okay, here's the third and final part! Sorry about the long wait, life has been chaotic & had writer's block half way through this. Thanks a bunch to my three betas for their fantastic input. :-)
A date with both of them, you resolved, and then you would make your decision.
You found a local hotel to stay at temporarily; you had toyed with the idea of crashing at Thirteen's place for a couple of days, but you knew that was out of your own selfish reasons and would raise numerous problems. For the same reason, House was out of the equation as you didn't want bias on either side. Contrary to popular belief, you had few other friends to ask; things between you and Foreman were a little too strained and although you were friendly with several other members of the hospital, you were hardly at the "dropping by unexpectedly and staying a few nights" stage. Hence, the hotel.
Fixing a date with House was easy, as he still owed you coffee; after a short debate, you had settled for tomorrow after work. Thirteen was a little trickier. You realised just how little you knew about her as you contemplated what to do on your date; luckily, she suggested an activity when you informed her of your plan.
"You free Friday night?" Thirteen had asked as she held her morning coffee in the cafeteria.
"Yeah, my shift finishes at seven. Want to do something?" You asked, taking a swig of your own drink.
"There's a bar down on King's Street. They have live music on Fridays and an old friend of mine is performing this week."
She said that she'd pick you up at eight and you said it sounded great. It was bound to be an interesting evening, at least, judging by what you had heard about the band.
--
House cornered you that afternoon as you stitched up a gash on a middle-age woman.
"It's not fair."
You resisted the temptation to roll your eyes. "Life isn't fair."
"Yeah, yeah, life's a bitch. Save me the sob story. You're seeing Thirteen on Friday night." House accused.
"Thirteen has a name, you know."
"You don't use it."
He was unfortunately right in that assumption, "Do we have to talk about this now? I'm with a patient if you hadn't noticed," you said, giving an apologetic look to the mildly confused woman who was listening with interest.
"Embarrassed?"
"Attempting to remain somewhat professional. You should try it sometime." You corrected with a smirk, expertly putting the last few stitches into the lady's arm.
He snorted, "You're embarrassed about liking a girl. That would be cute if you weren't trying so desperately to avoid my question."
You chose to ignore the shocked look on your patient's face and instead turned to face House, "It wasn't a question; it was an accusation."
"Okay, so stop avoiding my accusation." He mocked.
"Fine. I don't see a reason why I can't see her on Friday, I said I would go on a date with you both and that's what I'm going to do." You explained, before quickly remembering your utterly shocked patient and turning to explain to her.
"She's taking you to see the hottest band in town, and I get a drink of coffee? It's not fair. I demand a proper date." He interrupted.
You laughed, "You do remember our last 'proper' date, right?"
He smirked back at you as you sent your now thoroughly bewildered patient to an attending nurse.
"You're going on an evening date - with alcohol. That increases the chances of you sleeping with her by at least fifty percent."
"Oh, grow up. I'm not going to sleep with either of you until I've made my choice, and you should think enough of me to know that," you snapped back, getting increasingly irritated at his behaviour. You threw your medical gloves into the bin with slightly more force than was necessary as you attempted to clear the area for the next patient.
His hand caught your elbow as you turned to leave, and you hated how much calmer that suddenly made you feel. "Sorry," he said somewhat seriously before veering off into a Valley Girl impression, "But just so you know, you were like so totally hot on our date and I would have totally done you in the back of my car if it wasn't like so totally unethical."
You rolled your eyes with a slight smirk lining your lips; you knew that was his way of showing he actually cared about your date and perhaps even apologising for his previous actions, but House being House had to make a joke out of it. You reluctantly accepted his 'apology' as you turned back to face him.
"I'll see you tomorrow - at the coffee shop," you said, squeezing his hand before leaving to deal with another patient. You knew he was only screwing with you because he could, and he needed to know that you wouldn't agree to his every wish if you did indeed choose him.
--
Soon enough it was Thursday evening; you changed out of your scrubs and into jeans and a smart brown top (which you had admittedly bought specifically for the date). You decided on a casual high ponytail and added a little extra make up before leaving the female changing rooms. You were shocked to say the least when you saw House casually standing outside in the corridor.
"Took you long enough. I knew women took a long time getting ready but this has to be a record." He complained.
"I barely took fifteen minutes." You retorted, slightly pleased at the thought of making him wait so long, "What are you doing here anyway? I thought we were meeting at the cafe?" You questioned, coming to stand beside him.
"I'm walking you." He said, crinkling his nose as if the idea of being chivalrous was a foreign concept to him. You supposed it was.
You looked at him suspiciously as he held out his hand for you, and you took it cautiously.
"Stop looking like I'm about to murder you. I can be nice on occasion, you know," he said.
You smirked as you started walking with him to the exit. "Yeah, about once in a blue moon. Walking me to our date and holding my hand in the same minute? That's not you being spontaneously nice; that's you bordering on psychotic."
"When did you get so snarky?" He questioned in shock.
"When did you get so nice?" You countered.
"Touché."
You smiled, and again as he opened a door for you. If he got any more chivalrous you would seriously consider sending him to the psychiatric department.
You made idle chit chat as you walked hand-in-hand through the spring breeze to the small coffee shop. It felt strange, him being so open about your relationship. But you liked it, and the feel of his hand in yours made you feel wanted and safe and happy. Maybe this is what it would be like dating him, or maybe this was him simply being his competitive self. You didn't know.
"You could always pick us both." House suggested casually as they entered the café, innuendo lacing his every word.
You tried not to gape at him in shock at his blunt statement. "For both our sakes, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
"But you've thought about it." He smirked, leading you to a table.
You couldn't help the blush creeping up on your cheeks, of course you had thought about it; late at night with the feel of his stubble against your jaw and her soft arms around your waist…
"No. No way," you told him, "By the weekend, I'll have chosen one of you."
"Okay." House said, still sounding unconvinced.
A waitress interrupted before you could reply to his comment and took your orders…
You had picked a small table by the window. A small vase with a yellow rose sat in the center and you could view the general public milling around on the street outside through the slightly steamed window.
"I used to come here a lot when I first started working for you." You mused, picking up a new conversation.
"Yeah?"
You nodded in reply, "It was hard at first, and when I needed to just get out of the hospital for a while, this is where I ended up going."
"And here was me thinking you went to a strip club in your lunch hour." He joked.
"Hate to disappoint you." You smirked back.
"But you rarely do."
You snorted at that, "Oh right, so you now approve of my job in the ER?"
He smiled. "It's not a bad job. Obviously not as brilliant as working with me was." You laughed at that. "But you're good at it." He said with sincerity.
You didn't quite know how to deal with his praise, as rare as it was, and so smiled thankfully in return. "Do you miss us?"
House looked at you in surprise at your sincere question. "I, just - I have to know," you added.
He thought for a moment, "It's different. The new team are good; but they're not you." He admitted, distractedly playing with the menu.
"Is she…?" You didn't know quite how to ask about Thirteen, and so trailed off, nervously tapping an unknown rhythm on your palm.
"Thirteen's the best I've got. She's smart." He said, focusing on you, "Also, really hot, but I guess you already knew that." He joked.
You smiled back at him, and your drinks arrived just in time before the conversation got any more awkward. You thanked the waitress and she placed the coffee and cakes on your table, and watched as she walked away.
"Were you ever a waitress?" He surprised her by starting a conversation.
You almost snorted at that, "When would I have had the time?"
"In-between being a stripper and a doctor, of course."
You ignored him, "I just never really had enough time on my hands. And when I met Andrew…well, things got even more complicated." You said with a sad smile, remembering how chaotic it was balancing your dying husband with the long hours of training.
An awkward silence followed until House broke it, "So you were never a stripper?"
You laughed, "No. Or a waitress."
He grinned and took a swig of his coffee, casually shifting in his chair until his leg was resting against yours under the table. You tried not to grin like a lovesick teenager at the slight contact; it was strange how comfortable you were with each other compared to how you usually were.
"So, Chase thrown you out yet?" He asked bluntly. You secretly respected how he always went straight to the point; still, it was rather annoying to be on the receiving end.
"It's complicated," you explained, "I'm staying at a hotel for a few nights until we've got everything figured out."
A moment of silence passed before he sighed audibly, "You're going to pick her, aren't you?"
You were momentarily stunned speechless by his sudden lack of confidence; it was House who told you only a couple of days ago that you would pick him over Thirteen with such conviction that you mocked him for it.
It broke your heart to see his self-esteem suddenly hit rock bottom, and you almost subconsciously reached out your hand to reassure him. His fingers laced through yours as he turned to study you with gloomy eyes.
"She's broken." He said simply, "You can't fix the Huntington's that she may or may not have - but you can fix her. Me? I'm happy being broken, miserable, damaged..." He explained with a sad smile. "…And I'm also far too old for you." He added with a swig of his drink
"Don't say that about yourself. And for godsake don't start that whole 'I like damaged people' thing again." You almost scolded, "I like you, okay? You're intelligent, and interesting, and funny, and…yeah, different than Remy but that's maybe that's not such a bad thing." You explained with a smile and a squeeze of his hand.
"Remy… Interesting."
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at how his depression was so easily overcome with curiosity; it was almost like he had never let his walls down only moments before. You decided to play along with his pretence, smirking into your cup of coffee.
"Told you she had a name."
"And I told you that you don't use it."
You laughed, "Can we please talk about something else?"
"God, yes. Unless you want to explore that whole threesome route…" House tried again.
"No. I don't," you replied sternly, "So, tell me, when did you learn guitar?"
You both welcomed the change in conversation as he continued to tell you about his musical abilities, and you admitted to playing the flute when you were younger. Thus followed general discussion about music and amusing childhood stories, his hand never leaving yours.
You were more than surprised when he offered to pay, but managed to negotiate it so that you helped contribute. You were even more surprised when instead of going your separate ways, he led you over the street and into the park opposite.
"The park? Isn't this breaking the rules of our dating contract?" You asked in confusion, pretty certain that you had told him only to take you out to the coffee shop.
"I thought you'd say that; think of this as a scenic route home. I'm allowed to walk you home, aren't I?" He explained smugly.
"I suppose." You feigned defeat, when inside your were practically melting from the thought that he used his cunning intelligence for something other than annoying people and saving lives - namely, flattering you.
His hand casually lay on the small of your back as you wandered through the nearly deserted park together, dusk beginning to fall over the trees. The pace was rather slow and awkward because, even though he was far from admitting it, you knew his injured leg must have been hurting; you had seen him pop a Vicodin as you left the café, but you appreciated his effort to hide his anguish from you nonetheless. It was only after you passed a remarkably familiar bench did you realise that ironically it was the same park where Thirteen had found you after House had explained his rather twisted experiment to you. All thoughts of her soon vanished when he led you to the large fountain set in the center of the common. You had seen the stone structure before, of course, but never in the beauty of the impending nighttime; colored floodlights bathed the moving water in a beautiful glow that made the fountain look almost magical.
"Wow," you murmured, looking up at the statue that sat proudly at the top of the manmade structure.
"Yeah," he whispered in agreement, "I discovered it one night when I couldn't sleep."
You looked at him questioningly, but he just shrugged off your concern and continued to look distractedly at the water. He seemed instantly calmed by it, and your hand curled around his as you gazed at the fountain together.
"When I went to France as a kid, I got dragged to the local Fête des Vins. The only thing I remember was watching the lights display while eating candy. It was incredible," you recalled with a reminiscent smile, "I remember being fascinated by how light and water could look so beautiful, so many different colors and patterns set against the night sky."
You turned to face him, only to discover he was already gazing at you with a rare soft smile.
"What?" You asked innocently.
"Nothing." He shook his head slightly before shuffling closer to you.
You smiled at seeing him so relaxed, and wrapped your arms around his waist; your sparkling eyes meeting his intelligent blues. He looked surprisingly comfortable as he returned the gesture, a hint of a smile lining his lips.
"The sun will set in a few minutes if you want to make this extra cheesy." He joked, looking at your current position and the romantic setting around you.
You giggled at his remarkable talent for ruining the moment, but nonetheless sidled closer.
You sighed at the first touch of his lips on yours; you had memorised and recalled the single kiss you had shared more than a year ago over and over in your mind, and it was just as you remembered; the bitter aftertaste of Vicodin that lingered on his tongue, the delicate feel of his hands on your waist that made your heart beat three times it's normal pace and the incredible, overwhelming sensation that just was him. Kissing him again was like the first drop of rain after a summer's drought; it felt so natural and you craved more – you always needed more.
He broke for air and laid his forehead against yours; you took advantage of his momentary rest and left teasing kisses on his lips that were soon raised in what could only be described as a smile. His fingers attentively threaded through your blonde hair before his lips found yours again. You felt safe, wanted, happy. And it took all of your self-constraint not to break your own rules and follow him back home. No: you needed to give Thirteen a fair chance. Even if you currently could not imagine being in anyone else's arms but his.
You went your separate ways after another kiss goodbye, and House was the only thing on your mind when you drifted into a peaceful night's sleep that night.
--
"Hey," A voice called to you as you made your way to the cafeteria that morning. You turned to see Thirteen smiling softly at you; you returned the smile and waited for her to catch up before continuing down the corridor with her at your side.
"Are we still on for tonight?" She asked almost nervously; of course, House had probably been boasting to her all morning about your date with him last night.
"Yeah, can't wait." You grinned back at her; mad at yourself the somewhat forced enthusiasm in your reply. You had been looking forward to your date with Thirteen all week (perhaps even more than your one with House) but after last night it was hard thinking of anything other than him.
"Right…" Thirteen said sceptically, "You don't have to if you don't…"
"No, I do. Really." You cut her off, because you really did still want to go. And, god, you forgot how pretty she was.
"But the date went well last night with House so now your mind's elsewhere?" She guessed, opening the door for you as you walked into the hospital cafeteria.
You smiled at her incredible mind-reading abilities, "Pretty much."
She sighed, and stood casually behind you as you ordered your coffee.
"I'm really sorry." You said to her empathically as soon as the attendant had left the counter to fetch the drink.
"Don't apologise. You can't help how you feel, right? But, I just -"
You turned to look at her questioningly; she looked away for a moment pretending to be interested in a couple of senior doctors discussing their latest patient before gazing back at you. "House is competitive. I'm worried you'll make the wrong choice because of…I don't know, I like you. A lot. But I'm not going to fight a losing battle, if that's what this is…"
Thirteen was cut short by the attendant coming back with your order. You tore your eyes away from hers to get some money from your pocket only to find her having beaten you to it and casually paying for your drink.
You bit back a smile as she walked you to a nearby table, "You didn't have to buy it," you told her.
"I wanted to," she assured, "So, tonight?
"Yeah," you replied distractedly, still taking in her words from moments before. What if House was only being like this because he wanted to win? You shook your head to clear the distrustful thoughts, you saw the look in his eyes after you kissed him last night, this whole thing was his idea there's not a chance he would screw you over…right?
A comfortable warmth over your hand and a sudden spark of electricity pulled you out of your thoughts as you found Thirteen looking at you with concern and a sense of expectancy.
"I asked if you were okay."
"Sorry Remy, got lost in my thoughts." You explained with hesitancy, as she slowly pulled her hand away from yours as to not cause any suspicion.
"Did you…?" She asked with confusion, "I didn't know you knew my name." She said with an emotion somewhere between shock and flattery.
"I always knew it."
She sent a beautiful smile your way, her leg casually rubbing against yours (which had far more effect on you than it should have), before she moved to stand up.
"I've got to get back. Meet you in diagnostics after your evening shift?" She asked.
"Sure. Thanks for the coffee." You smiled back up at her, your thoughts still a little fuzzy as she squeezed your shoulder gently and left.
--
You attempted to squash the butterflies in your stomach, but knew it was no use as thoughts of her clouded your mind every time you tried. To think earlier that morning you thought you had made your decision.
It was getting near four in the afternoon and you still hadn't seen House. It wasn't that you told him to meet you (you weren't expecting him as such) but you had explicitly told him that it was Thirteen's turn today and he ought not to show up…which was exactly why you expected him. Five' o'clock and your suspicions were confirmed when he came strolling into the lounge where you were currently trying to finish some paperwork.
"Not bad. You managed to resist annoying me for at least six hours." You teased, pulling up another chart and flicking through it.
"You know you like it really." He threw back at you, coming to sit on the chair near you and casually putting his feet on the table from which you were currently working.
You sighed, giving him a strained smile as you tried to extract a file from underneath his legs.
"Oi! Cripple here." He complained, but he must've known his usual excuse wouldn't work on you.
"Don't even…" You started, but were interrupted when Thirteen suddenly appeared at the foot of the table.
"Found you." She said with exasperation, throwing a medical file into his lap with a non-too-kind force, hands on hips.
She glanced at you questioningly, "Hey, I had nothing to do with this; he just found me!" You raised your hands in defense.
"Now that I believe." She rolled her eyes in such a way that you knew that House had been spinning his usual lies all day.
"What's he done now?" You asked with horror, almost not wanting to know.
"Geez, thanks for giving me the benefit of a doubt, Cameron." He said sarcastically, gingerly picking up his patient's file and glancing at the latest test result.
"It's positive." He sighed, "She's dying." And with those single words, the atmosphere changed between them entirely.
She glanced over at you before her eyes fixed on the lounge floor. "Foreman thought you'd…"
"Yeah. I'll tell her parents," House interrupted quietly, running his hand through his hair in frustration.
Thirteen meekly nodded in response, turning to leave.
"Hey," he asked, and she paused in her tracks. "Come with me?"
It was hard to say who was more shocked at the empathy in his voice. "They might want to talk…after. And as you may have noticed, I'm not the most comforting of doctors and, well, you're the Izzie Stevens of the East Coast."
She cracked a small smile his pop culture reference to Grey's Anatomy. "Sure."
You admired the rare moment of seeing the two people you liked so much actually getting along, even if it was over such a horrible matter. "A kid, huh?" You asked with sympathy as he stood up to join his colleague. "I'm really sorry."
They had almost forgotten you were sitting there when they had discovered the news; you saw it in his eyes the moment he turned to look at you. Did he actually care about this patient?
He tapped his cane distractedly on the floor. "Thanks," he said somewhat awkwardly before walking past Thirteen towards the door.
"See you tonight." She muttered bar her usual smile, before turning to follow her boss with solemn steps.
"Yeah…" You said, still trying to comprehend what just happened.
--
You managed to get off work at seven, and after a quick clothes change (you had decided on jeans and a well-fitted tee) and a make-up and hair adaptation, you made your way up to the diagnostics department where Thirteen was waiting for you. She was dressed in similar clothing and was casually reading a book behind the desk in the conference room; on closer inspection, you noted that it was a medical journal.
"Hey," you greeted, "Interesting read?"
She laughed, and placed the discarded journal on the desk. "Not really, but it always helps to stay ahead of the game."
Thirteen smiled as she walked towards you and left a chaste kiss on your cheek. The move surprised you, although really it shouldn't have done as you had already shared much more intimate moments with her…you blushed at the thought, or maybe it was the lingering feel of her lips against your skin that caused the blush.
"Ready?" She asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.
You nodded, having lost your ability to speak and followed her out of the hospital still in somewhat of a daze.
"It's just down the road; figured we'd walk, if that's okay?" Thirteen asked, her hand slipping into yours once you were out of eyeshot from any co-workers and nosy members of the public.
You tried not to mirror this date with your last one; but it was near impossible and you found yourself comparing the silliest of things, like how her fingers felt so delicate and small in your hand compared to his.
"You're quiet tonight." She pointed out almost nervously, as you walked towards your destination. "If you're uncomfortable with…"
"No," you interrupted, "It's not you; I've just had a long day, as I imagine you have too." You explained, squeezing her hand to reassure her that you really were okay with the public display of affection.
She gave a sad smile, "Yeah. Today hasn't been the easiest of days. Ellie – our patient – she's only seven years old and probably only has a couple more weeks to live. It's not fair. She's such a sweet kid," she mumbled, the fatal diagnosis weighing heavily on her mind.
"There's nothing you could have done." You reassured, even though you knew from experience that nothing can make losing a young patient any less traumatic. She sighed, and after a moment's silence you asked the question that had been on your mind all day: "House wasn't too much of an ass today, was he?"
"House is always an ass." She smirked, and you laughed at how true her statement was. Her smile widened in response as you walked a little closer.
"But he didn't say anything about last night?" You asked curiously.
"House said plenty of things; I just ignored them." She said proudly.
You smiled, "You're a quick learner."
"Why, thank you Dr. Cameron!" She said playfully, tugging you around the corner where you immediately saw a lively bar where a small crowd had already gathered. You motioned to let go of her hand, but she just held on tighter as you approached the establishment, a knowing smile on her face. When you got close enough to the club, you realised why.
"Oh. You forgot to mention it was a, uh, you know…gay bar." You muttered awkwardly, looking around to see various other same sex couples queuing at the entrance.
"This is weird for you, isn't it?" She asked, cautiously letting go of your hand.
"A little," you admitted, feeling strangely out of place like a child at an adult's party.
She let the other couples pass as she turned to face you. "I'm sorry if I'm making this whole thing even more hard and stressful for you, Allison. Really, it's the last thing I want to do. I just know you'd like this place if you give it a shot. It's really nice and there's some great people I want you to meet," she explained, "It's also the only venue this side of Philadelphia where the band are playing, and Sara will kick my ass if I don't show up." Thirteen joked with a hopeful smile.
"I know; it's just me freaking out a little." You confessed, nervously tucking your hands in your jean pockets.
"It's okay." She smiled reassuringly, glancing over to the club entrance, which was gradually thinning with people. "We can do something else if you like…"
"No," you interrupted, taking her hand back into yours, "No, I trust you. Plus, I can't leave you in the bar all alone; I've seen far too many pretty single girls here tonight." You smirked, pulling her back into the line with you.
She rolled her eyes dramatically, "Well, if you insist."
Once you entered the establishment, you immediately understood why she liked the place so much; it had such a relaxed and friendly atmosphere. Even a bartender gave a warm 'hello' as Thirteen approached the bar. It was small, filled with music and laughter, you were also thankful to discover it was not as crowded with couples as you had first imagined.
"Hey Bill," Thirteen greeted the middle-aged bartender, leading you to the main bar area.
"Got a ladyfriend, I see?" He grinned at you, before sensing the slight awkwardness that arose and diverting the conversation. "So, come to see Sara?"
"Yes, actually. Been a while since I've seen her, but figured it was about time I heard the band," she explained, sitting casually on the barstool. You followed her lead and picked the one next to hers, curiosity as to whom this 'Sara' was starting to nag at your brain.
"You know you can go backstage if you want, Remy." He winked, grabbing two glasses from behind the counter.
"Nah, it's okay. I've got company." She smiled at you, and you returned the sentiment, ignoring the slight flip-flop in your stomach. "This is Allison," she introduced, as the bartender magically produced two cocktails and passed them to you.
"Lovely to meet you. The drinks are on the house ladies! Excuse me while I go tell Sara and the gang to get their asses on stage." He joked, before leaving the bar with a jolly stride in his step.
You smiled. "So, do you charm free drinks off bartenders all the time?" You teased, sipping at your mystery cocktail.
"Actually, Bill rarely gives me freebies, you should be honoured," she grinned across at you.
"You guys seem friendly."
"Yeah, he's Sara's ex-girlfriend's uncle…or my ex-girlfriend's uncle, I suppose." She pondered, her face adorably scrunched up in confusion, "Nice guy anyway." She laughed, taking a drink of her cocktail.
"Wait, so you and Sara…" You trailed off, trying to do the relationship math in your head and completely and utterly failing.
"Basically, I fell for this girl in high school, she was amazing but after a year or so I found out she had been cheating on me. With Sara. I broke up with her, but by some twisted hand of fate, ended up being best friends with the very girl who took her away from me."
"This is starting to sound like a soap opera." You laughed.
"Tell me about it."
"So…what happened to Sara? Is she still with her?" You asked cautiously, sensing that there was a lot more to this story than Thirteen was letting on.
"Oh, no, they didn't last long at all. Turns out the girl we both fell for was actually straight. Just going through a phase." She shrugged, watching with mild interest as they began setting the stage.
"But Sara…?"
"Not a phase. Lead singer of one of the most cutting edge gay bands in the world. She'll be on stage soon, and I bet you she hasn't changed a bit," she mused with a smile.
A sudden thought came to you; she doesn't like Sara, does she? Before you could even contemplate asking her, the band shuffled their way on stage to a loud round of applause. You focused your attention on the stage as a stunning brunette walked up to the microphone and gave a sexy but cute smile to the audience. Sara.
"She's pretty." You mumbled, Thirteen didn't acknowledge your statement, too engrossed in the on-stage action. Sara gave a general introduction with a surprising amount of nervousness, which was more endearing than off-putting as the band began their first song. You were taken aback when the singer sent a gorgeous smile in your direction, and when Thirteen gave a slight wave back.
You tried to tell yourself you weren't jealous; what was there to be jealous of? Unless Thirteen was hiding something, of course. You watched her watch the stage with curiosity, but your date – Remy - seemed lost in past memories as the music drifted over to the bar.
After one or two songs their view was obscured by dancing couples and groups of friends, as people took to the dance floor. You sighed, and quickly finished the remains of your cocktail, hoping the alcohol would give you the strength to do what you were about to do. You hoped down from the bar and stood in front of your date, arm outstretched in an invitation.
"Dance with me?" You mouthed over the loud music.
Her eyes instantly lit up and a sexy smile lined her lips as her fingers linked with yours, coming to stand beside you. The nervous butterflies were now a common feature in your stomach, but that gorgeous smile of hers made your heart do funny things too. There was something about that smile of hers that instantly made you feel more confident, young and free.
She led you over to the dance floor with her hand in yours, and soon she was dancing flirtingly with you to the upbeat song; the alcohol had thankfully worked its magic and numbed your nerves as you moved impossibly closer to her throughout the song. She looked stunning as she skilfully moved to the music; her eyes never left yours, until your jealousy from before had disappeared entirely and it was just to two of you in the crowded bar. You lost count of the number of songs you had danced to, and the number of teasing kisses you had given and received; you didn't even like dancing, but with Thirteen it was fun, flirty and not at all embarrassing. Or maybe that was thanks to the couple of drinks that had been passed to you throughout the evening.
The latest song died in a round of applause, as they struck up a slow rhythm and a soft melody, "We're gonna slow things down a bit now. I wrote this about an ex-girl of mine, and yeah, hope you enjoy it." Sara said sweetly over the microphone, waiting for the piano intro before her beautiful voice started floating over the slow music.
You looked over at Remy awkwardly as the people surrounding you paired off to dance to the romantic song. She surprised you by taking your hand and pulling you close, "Dance with me?" She whispered in your ear, mimicking your earlier question. You smiled and left a gentle kiss on her cheek as she pulled you close and you starting swaying in time to the music.
You didn't miss the occasional glance that your date and Sara shared, but you brushed it off; they obviously had a history, but it was you she was dancing with, right?
You leant into her embrace as the music continued; your arms were casually slung around her neck and her hands lay comfortingly on the small of your back. She sighed and left a tender kiss on your hairline, the lyrics of the song ironically mirroring what you felt when you were with her. Your eyes flickered to hers and she looked down at with you with such tenderness that your lips moved to hers almost instinctively. The kiss was different from the others; instead of being flirty or clouded with passion…it was tender, loving, sweet. Your lips tingled delightfully when she pulled away and let her forehead rest against yours, breath mingling in the crowded club.
"Let's get out of here," she whispered in your ear, hand linking with yours.
You nodded speechlessly as she led you out of the bar and into the deserted street outside, the muffled music and soft glow from the bar your only company. She pulled you almost desperately into the dark alley along the side of the club and within seconds her lips were on yours. You gasped at the sudden passion that overcame her as her hands roamed your body, pushing up your top until her fingers were dancing along your ribs, the passionate kiss not ceasing as she pushed you gently against the brick wall. Your encounter in the supplies cupboard flashed before your eyes, so much had changed since then but not the passion that still flowed through you at her single touch. You instinctively responded with equal fervour, your hands framing her face as you increased the intensity of the kiss. She was intoxicating. A small voice at the back of your mind tried to push through, telling you something that you already knew but didn't want to admit. But the lust was clouding your thoughts as her beautiful assault continued and the thought was temporarily lost.
"I can't do this." You managed to say once she had broken the kiss to pay attention to your throat. That was your thought. You knew it was ultimately the right thing to do; but you still hated yourself for voicing it at that particular moment in time.
"Sorry, I know. The whole 'no sex' thing. I just…you look beautiful tonight." She smiled, giving you a tantalisingly slow and lingering kiss.
Damn, how were you going to do this now? You reciprocated for as long as you dared; clinging to that last beautiful feel of her lips under yours and her body against yours.
"No. I mean, in the larger sense of the word. Us. Can't do us." You attempted to clarify, as you slowly pulled away. Your eyes fixed on the dirty alley ground as you effectively broke up with her, not having the strength to look in her eyes.
"Oh." That was her shocked response as she immediately took a step back from you until the cold night air took her place.
"Trust me when I say it's not you, Remy. You are beautiful and just amazing…and tonight has been so much fun," you explained, stepping back towards her until you were facing each other in the narrow alley, "Being with you is exciting and fun and it makes me feel about ten years younger…but that's why…"
"Why you're picking House." She said sadly, "I get it. You need a serious relationship; you're in love with him. I get it."
This time it was her staring solidly at the ground, hands in her jean pockets, and her shoes scuffing the dirt distractedly.
"Hey," you whispered tenderly, and she looked up at that. "I really do like you."
"I like you too." Thirteen admitted, attempting not to laugh at their daft situation.
"And I think Sara might too," you suggested cautiously. Her eyes linked with yours and you watched her nod meekly.
"Maybe." She said, but it lacked any enthusiasm as she broke your gaze again.
"Okay…" You trailed off awkwardly, hearing the band start to finish back in the club, "Thank you."
You left a chaste kiss on her cheek as you let your body walk you back to the comforting confines of the hospital. You only hoped Remy had the common sense to go and speak to Sara, or else your awkward break up with her would had seemed even harsher. You sighed, and you found yourself standing outside the door of the diagnostics department ten minutes later, loud music blaring out from the dark office. You were going to go straight home, but with the amount of alcohol you had drunk tonight (you blame the beer Remy kept giving you), you had hardly thought that was a good idea. In fact, you were surprised you had even made it back to the hospital. So, there you were outside his office door.
You didn't even bother knocking as you entered the dim room to see a middle-aged man lounging in the chair with a glass of scotch, twirling his cane in time to the loud music coming out from the record player on his desk.
"Thought you'd gone home." House said harshly, not bothering to open his eyes to the intruder.
"No…" You began.
"Oh." He said, suddenly opening his eyes and sitting upright in his chair. "Thought you were Kutner."
"Do I take that as a compliment or an insult?" You laughed, turning a small lamp on to give the room so more light.
He looked awful; misery lined his features making him look aged, and a slight growth of his beard told her he hadn't shaved in days – she wondered if he had even gone home.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, taking another swig of the strong drink.
"You lost a patient." You said without a beat, coming to sit beside him on another chair.
"So did Thirteen. And you're meant to be on a date with her."
"Yeah…" You trailed off, once again overcome with unease.
"You broke up with her on your date?" House exclaimed in shock, somehow reading through your awkwardness.
"You make it sound kind of harsh." You mumbled, thinking of how you just left Thirteen standing there completely shocked and heartbroken in the deserted alley.
"That's not harsh! That's just plain bitchy!" House exclaimed, filling up his scotch glass. You were shocked when he grabbed another glass, poured in some of the drink, and handed it to you. "I like it," he said with a rare flirty smile.
You returned the gesture, silently toasting your new slightly strange relationship with a clink of the glasses and a laugh when he teased you for sipping your scotch.
It was funny how things worked out, but it seemed no matter what was thrown at you, you always ended up on House's doorstep and he always ended up at yours.
Guess his twisted little experiment worked after all; you finally realised out what you wanted.
You wanted him.
Thanks a bunch for reading folks, hope you enjoyed it! :-)
Reviews are always welcome!