Chapter 4: The First Trial

House looked at his watch. It was one fifteen. He sighed to himself and looked up at Cameron, Foreman, and Chase. Chase was writing something on Cameron's papers and Foreman was staring past him out the window. They were worse than high school students in lecture. He cleared his throat, demanding their attention.

"House, we have to go!" Cuddy had peered into the room. All three of his students looked at her, then back at House in unison. He refrained from snickering at them.

House waved the three of them away. They all stood in unison and hesitated before breaking the unbearable silence. They chatted about the case House had been discussing, but he knew as soon as he left the room that their conversation would quickly turn to their weekend plans. House shook his head.

Cuddy was still standing at the door. She stared at House, not amused. When their eyes met, she motioned with her head for them to leave. House grabbed his cane off the white board and toddled back into his office. Picking up his jacket and bag, he followed Cuddy to the elevator.

"Whose car?" he turned to Cuddy after the elevator door had closed.

"Mine." She said unwaveringly. She took no notice of House looking at her questioningly.

"Do you think I'm a bad driver?" he pretended to look hurt.

"You might say that, yes." She laughed softly at his look of despair.

"Okay, but if you drive then I get to control the radio. And that means we're listening to," he paused. After knowing her for so long, House aught to know what kind of music Cuddy did and didn't like. He took a guess at what would annoy her the most. "We're listening to the country station!"

"Goody!" She said sarcastically. He had guessed correctly.

After twenty minutes of Tim McGraw and Keith Urban, House was relieved to recognize the "Patterson School of Ballet" sign a few blocks away. He probably hated the country music more than Cuddy. As they pulled closer to the building, he slowly examined it, as he had not been able to in the pouring rain. This bright day allowed him to see the pepto bismol pink bricks and windows that were coated in brightly colored stickers.

"Ready?" Cuddy was smiling deviously. The music abruptly disappeared as she switched off the car. His ears alleviated of their pain, he looked back at her and grinned.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

House lifted himself out of the car, pulling his bag behind him. After holding the door open for his new ballet teacher, he followed closely behind her.

"Hello Lisa!" It was the same blonde-haired woman who had greeted him last week. She turned to him, "I know you! You were here last week. New student?" She turned back to Cuddy.

"Oh yeah," she glanced at House for a moment, "this is Hou… Greg. Greg House. He works at the hospital with me."

"Dr. Greg! I'm Georgia, nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Georgia," he looked at Cuddy, slightly amused.

They walked down the familiar hallway, and turned left. Instead of walking into studio five, Cuddy stopped in front of a large swinging door that said "Women's Changing Room". She pointed to a door a few feet away that was labeled "Men's Changing Room".

"I think you'll be the first one to ever use it!" She smiled over her shoulder as she disappeared to change.

House emerged clad in navy basketball shorts and a white tee shirt. Cuddy was correct in assuming that he was the first to use the changing room, it was spotless. He entered the studio to find that he was clearly missing the essential footwear. But he quickly forgot that when Cuddy motioned for him to come stand next to her. He could see eyes following him up to the front of the room. He turned to find the women of various ages sitting on exercise mats, peering up at them anxiously.

"Class, we have a new student, as you can see. Care to introduce yourself?" Cuddy donned a fake smile as she looked over at him.

"Hello. I'm Greg."

"Hi Greg!" One outspoken teenager shouted from the back of the class. Calm laughter spread across the room. Cuddy's fake smile became genuine.

"So clearly, Greg is not dressed appropriate for our class," Cuddy joked to the class, "but, I suppose we can let that go due to that it is his first day. Grab a mat, kid."

After ten minutes of stretching (which had highlighted the fact that House was not flexible), they stood up to begin. House discovered that ballet was clearly not meant for crippled people. Leaping was out of the question for him, and balancing on one foot proved even more difficult. Comparing himself to Cuddy's examples, it was clear that he was shaming the art of ballet. Cuddy moved with both strength and grace, and went so quickly without mistakes. His curious mind longed to know where she had learned this.

"Gregory House!" She woke him from his thoughts, as Cuddy often did. "Your arms are all wrong!"

He looked around at the class. Their arms were out in a circle in front of them, their hands steady and elegant. He looked down at his own. His arms were drooping.

"Sorry Lisa." He smiled sheepishly. Trying to keep up, he set his arms out, parallel with the floor.

"Still wrong," Cuddy frowned and slipped over towards him. Her hands were cold as she shaped his arms to look like the rest of the class. Her touch running down his arms sent chills through him. "Relax your hands," her words were soft and concentrated, "stand up straight." She stood next to him and demonstrated. As he copied her, she slowly twisted her lips into a smile.

"Very good!" Cuddy's soft voice turned into cheery praise. House dared not smile, he worried that might set him off balance. Looking up into her eyes, he saw her passion for the sport shining through. She nodded and backed up and leaned against the front wall.

After Cuddy dismissed the twenty students, House quickly retreated back to the changing room. He thought over the last hour. Cuddy's cool touch, her approving smile, the way she glided across the wood floorboards- it was all new to him. Back in the clothes he had arrived in and carrying his black bag with him, he returned to the studio. Still dressed in a fitted tee shirt, pink tights, and black shorts, Cuddy was fiddling with the CD player. He silently walked over next to her.

"How was it?" She asked offhandedly, without looking away from what she was doing.

"Fine," he looked over at her, "I don't think I was built to do this sort of thing," he pointed to his leg. "You were very good, however."

"Why, thank you," Cuddy looked away from the CDs she was studying.

Their eyes met as they stood in silence. Oddly enough, the silence wasn't uncomfortable. House saw a small swift smile linger at her lips as he leaned towards her. His lips collided with hers as her smile disappeared. Hers were warm and soft as he questioningly danced his tongue across them. Her tongue glided across his as he slid his hands unto her lower back, pulling her closer. Feeling her cool hands crawl up his neck, he saw the smile growing back again. He rested his hands back at her hips, caressing her soft lips again. Cuddy gradually pulled away and gazed at House with her head tilted sideways.

"What was that all about?" She looked at him knowingly.

"Apparently, ballet turns me on."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and let go of him. She stalked off to the door, but just before opening it, she paused to gaze at him once more. Exiting the room, she left him alone. He smiled. She knew just as well as him that he had wanted to do that long before today.