Alas, fate has brought us to the last chapter. Thank you for reading, enjoying (hopefully), and reviewing!
He never thought of settling down—not with anyone. Not with anyone. But now, with her; just like this, he might even want something more. Gregory House was sure that Lisa Cuddy would be for him. Of that he had no doubts. Of that he could not quite admit. Of that he could not quite face. But she—the Woman, was different. She made him want something he never would have wanted. She made him want to be better, even. And what that implied, he was scared of. Here he was, with a girl he barely knew, and he was already seeing a glimpse of their possible life together. They'd probably have kids in their thirties. Sex would always be good—would always be hot. He would always have fun with her and she would always be difficult (and vice versa). She would always be his and she would always be difficult to figure out.
And that definitely excited him. It was not just novelty or a thrill of the mystery for him. She was real and tangible, and he felt, in his tiniest heart of hearts, that she would always be there.
Suddenly, he had a bad feeling about this. He wanted to get away. He wanted to deflect. Or die. Whichever option was better. But he couldn't.
"What are you planning to specialize in, anyway, Lisa Cuddy?" he asked her. They were lounging in his one-bedroom apartment, eating stale French fries and drinking bottles of Corona. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning.
"Uh. I haven't really… I haven't really thought about that. I was thinking surgery, but—"
"Boobs," he suddenly said.
"What?" she was puzzled.
"Your boobs are going to distract the patient. They might have heart attacks once they look up your—"
"Oh, shut up." She smeared ketchup on his face with a greasy piece of potato slice. He tried to lick it, but he couldn't. So he decided to wipe his face on the shirt she had on. It was an ugly, ugly Goonies shirt he used to keep as a lanky teenager. He brought it to Michigan with the hopes of meeting Sophie Lee on campus. That was before Lisa Cuddy and human history. He would never admit it, but the truth is, he had the propensity for sentiment.
"Well, that's better than dermatology."
"What's wrong with dermatology?"
"Well, that's not real doctoring. That won't be a challenge for you. I think you'd love a challenge. Am I right or am I right?" he waited for her to reply. He was sure he was right.
"I'm…" she trailed off, hesitating. "I'm liking endocrinology so far."
"Really?" he was genuinely surprised. Endocrinology was difficult, he had to admit. Details, details, details. The girl was probably anal-retentive and a perfectionist—great for this specialty, indeed. "You should find out, then. So you'd know what to major in or something. I'm not quite sure." He was eating the last few slices of potato and painting a Rothko or a Pollock on the plate ("Sunrise with Lisa Cuddy", in ketchup on porcelain plate). He hated trying to help, and now he was bumbling with specialties and medicine. Damn it. Damn you, Woman.
"I never really thought of that. Um, thanks?" Cutest of cutest things to do, Lisa Cuddy tilted her head to the side and scratched it. He wanted to kiss her. He had always wanted to kiss her. He always wants to kiss her. Past, present, future, present perfect. Whatever grammar tense there was, it was totally appropriate at this point.
"Don't need to thank me, Lisa Cuddy." He looked at her earnestly and really kissed her with all the feeling that he had. Excitement, anxiety, something akin to love or like or whatever it was, amazement. It was all there. In lips and tongue, in palms and fingers—it was all there. And she accepted everything and gave everything back.
But time will have other plans because time is a curse.
"You really like me, huh?" she smiled bashfully at him.
"What. Of course not," he chuckled.
Commence an eye-rolling sequence from the master (Mistress) herself. With a mixture of amusement and irritation, she asked him a question for the ages. "Why do you need to negate everything?"
He grinned at her and kissed her again. "I don't know."
The gods of time took notice. They wrote it down in a book because there would always be a time of reckoning and repetition.
"Ha. Okay. Someday, I think I'll get an answer."
"Why do you think there'll be a someday, Lisa Cuddy?"
"Because I said so. So shut up."
"Way to woo a guy."
"Why should I? You should be doing that to me instead."
"Well, I negate everything, right?"
"So you're saying," she began cautiously, "that you don't like me?" She didn't look at him, but at her toes instead. Electric blue nail polish seemed very interesting.
"Of course I do. What makes you think—"
"If you like me, prove it." And at that, there came an uncomfortable silence brought about by debts and promises, of things that might not happen. The silence was heavy, and the two were waiting. It wasn't about who will cave or who will give in first. But then again, it might be.
"Why? You already put out for me." So he was the first one to give in. Talk about head over heels in like. Love is too grave a word.
"I won't do it again." Threats and more threats. This might be their future.
"I made you come three, four times!" Bargaining might be, as well.
"Not anytime soon. And Gregory House? Fuck you."
He kissed her neck. "Please. I'll do anything." Whether it might be true or false, he was pretty sure it was close to veritable when he said so.
"Lose your lacrosse match. Lose it for me." Lisa Cuddy was serious. Lisa Cuddy was unbelievable. It only showed Gregory House two things.
"You're fucking crazy and fucking gorgeous."
"Lose it for me." She really was serious.
That night, he was indomitable in the resolution that he, Gregory House—will lose the University of Michigan intercollegiate lacrosse match for a girl. He'd play badly. Tomorrow, tomorrow. There would always be tomorrow. He was going to lose. Just to prove that he would do anything for her.
And he did lose. He lost by default.
The next day, he got a call from the College Secretary's office regarding his inevitable expulsion. The Wolverines lost one of their star players and Lisa Cuddy lost Gregory House (and vice versa). Mondays. Hateful days for lacrosse matches and star-crossed lovers.
But there would always be reckoning, they thought.
The End.
