Candy Canes and Mistletoe

Chapter 10

Two weeks had gone by since House and Remy agreed to become a monk and a nun, together in a relationship that clearly defied God's natural plan for a man and a woman of consenting age. House was starting to chafe. He really needed to get some hand lotion or something, otherwise he'd have just a nub left by the time they actually evolved back to having sex again.

At work, they had fallen into an easy rhythm. Essentially it was ignore each other until no one was around and then they'd give each other a wink, a smile or sneak a fleeting little touch. During differentials, she'd throw out some good ideas and some not so good ones. He'd shoot her down or take her side depending on who pissed him off more. She teased him and he ridiculed her. She'd pretend to be annoyed and he'd sexually harass her. It was normal, pretty much just like every other day they spent at work for the last three years.

At home, that was a completely different story. They spent a lot of time together. Some of it was spent out to dinner after work. Sometimes he would cook for her at the apartment with Wilson. They spent a lot of nights playing video games, but occasionally they would go to the movies. Others they would lie on her couch and just talk. He found out that she wouldn't eat anything that swam in the ocean and that she had a favorite doll named Lucy when she was a girl, but it was porcelain and broke one day in her driveway. Her six-year-old self was devastated, but he could hear the sorrow of it still in her voice when she told the story. He had told her about living in Egypt and Okinawa and that the one thing he couldn't stand to eat besides pickles was coconut.

In his latest session with Nolan, the psychiatrist had suggested that they start participating in things that each other had liked to do prior to becoming a couple. This was a dicey prospect for House since he was of the mindset that if he wasn't interested in it, he just didn't do it. Remy was a little more open to suggestion. After some persuasion, and some serious kissing blackmail, House caved like a fat kid who had been deprived of cake for a month and a half.

They were at yoga.

How in the world she talked a guy with one and a half legs into a yoga class was simply beyond him. It must have been his nub doing the thinking because the allure of her mystique had convinced him that this might actually be a good idea for him. She had assured him he'd gain some flexibility, maybe the power to empty his mind and all sorts of other salacious bribes like seeing tight, perky, yoga-toned asses in cotton lycra directly at his eye level. But he was dubious about his ability to actual participate. He didn't want to make an ass of himself. Crippled guy in a yoga class was an oxymoron of grand proportions.

Remy had spoken to her yoga instructor the week before and the woman suggested they try couples yoga. It was slower paced and more about stretching than rigorous standing poses like she was used to in her 'hot' yoga class, whatever that was. He wasn't comfortable but he wanted to see her naked sometime in the near future so it was worth a try.

So far, the only tight yoga ass he'd had the pleasure of seeing was the longhaired dude in front of them. The guy breathed like he was a snorting bull and his partner had spindly legs and arms like one of those spiders from that crazy Harry Potter forest. Her jet-black, stick straight hair and crepe skin added to the whole Morticia Addams effect and House had to force himself not to look at her otherwise he'd burst out laughing. Remy had already warned him to be on his best behavior so he figured he was one point over par already, he didn't want to push his luck. They were supposed to be centering. It was the first pose of the class and House was doomed.

He and Remy sat back to back on the floor of the dimly lit studio. They were in a crossed legged position and their hands were loosely linked by their sides. The yoga instructor, maybe her name was Mary, circulated around them and spoke in a soothing gentle voice. "Give each other a moment to set aside any plans, stresses or concerns that the day has brought. Begin to feel your own breath, slow, calm and deep. See if you can feel your partner's breath as you ground yourself to one another. If you can, gently work on bringing your inhalation into sync with their exhalation. Be mindful of each other's presence and calmly aware of any feelings that it might bring, appreciating the positive and seeing through the negative."

"Does that mean that I should embrace the fact that I can feel your ass cheeks pressed up against mine as a positive thing," he whispered back to her.

"Yes. Shhh," she replied quietly. She was very into this. As soon as they crossed the threshold to the yoga studio, a quietness came over her. She moved differently, the rhythm of her breathing changed. She was serene and peaceful. It was a fascinating transformation.

House rolled his eyes. He was bored already. All they were doing was breathing. In and out, in and out. Inspiration and expiration. The respiration cycle consisted of air entering the nasal cavity, traveling into the maxillary sinuses, into the pharynx, through the larynx, down the trachea. Once the air hit the lungs it entered the main bronchi, then into smaller bronchial tubules, through even smaller bronchioles, and into the microscopic alveolus. The diaphragm moved downwards increasing the volume of the thoracic cavity, and the intercostal muscles pulled the ribs up thereby expanding the rib cage. This was how you could actually feel your partner's breathing. The expansion and contraction of the thoracic cavity and rib cage as the exchange of oxygen into carbon dioxide occurred. Simple human biology. Nothing really transforming or bonding about it.

"Now that we are grounded, rooted and bound to each other through our breath, we are going to gently move into our next pose," the woman announced in her calm tones. "Link your arms together by your elbows." House felt Remy's arms come through his wrapping around the crook of his elbows. The movement pulled him upright and her head, with its high ponytail, pressed against the back of his neck. It felt a little awkward at first but then as she bent forward, she pulled him into a backbend that stretched rather nicely across his chest. They repeated the move, this time with him bending forward stretching her over the curve of his back. Ok, not so bad. He could handle this.

They engaged in a series of poses similar to this, back to back, moving in tandem. They bent to the side, to the other side and then twisted around each other like a seated Maypole. It was time to face each other. Still seated, they placed the soles of their feet together and held onto each other's hands. One pulled while the other bent forward. She went down first laying her torso out over her legs. She bent in half like she was hinged at the hips; he actually had to bend his arms to stretch her out far enough. There was no way he'd be able to bend that far.

It was his turn next. Sitting up and re-centering herself, she reached forward and grabbed onto his hands. She blinked her eyes at him to see if he was ready, when he nodded, she pulled him forward. He moved all of two inches before he was stuck and a tightness at the back of his thighs screamed at him. "Whoa, hamstrings…" he complained. She smiled at him and just held onto his hands gently pulling him a little further. "And calves… and soles of my feet."

"Shhh," she hushed. "Just breathe."

"I am breathing," he told her. "You can't forget to breathe."

"Uh huh," she murmured with an amused smile.

They next repeated the process with their legs spread apart. Once again, she was able to lay herself out flat on the floor while he moved, possibly less than two inches this time. He had never before felt such pain in his inner thighs. And once again she told him to breathe.

That torture finally over, they moved closer, placing the soles of their own feet together in the butterfly and sitting so that their knees almost touched.

They linked arms and he began to pull her forward. She kept going and going and going until her face was practically planted in his crotch. House looked around furtively to see if other couples were in the same predicament. Sure enough, it looked like a blowjob convention. He choked on a laugh and leaned forward a bit.

"I thought we were coming here to avoid your face near my junk. If I knew we'd wind up in this position, I'd have said let's just stay home and do this naked," he whispered.

He could hear her let out a little laugh against the mat as she turned her head to the side to look at him with one crystal blue eye. "Shut up and roll with it."

What's her name, Maria or something, came over behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. He narrowed his eyebrows in a scowl. Normally people, especially strangers, didn't touch him. All sorts of social boundaries were broken in yoga, he supposed. "Couples yoga is about trust, Greg," she spoke tranquilly. "We must be open to our partner, willing to receive and give in turn. Let go of the preconceived notions and you will be thankful for the fruits of your labors."

House stared back at the woman. He knew his mouth had to be hanging open in either utter confusion or condescension, he wasn't really sure. He took in a breath about to speak, when Remy discreetly pinched his hand. She peered up at him with that one eye and he snapped his mouth shut, hanging his head on the unleashed comeback. She took the wind right out of his sails and he was left there with nothing to do but press her knees down to ground her as they were instructed to switch.

Rising, she helped him forward, gently caressing his arms as she brought him into the bend. It wasn't really a bend for him, more like a slight forward incline. He was stuck again at about two inches from starting position.

"Breathe," she told him calmly looking into his face.

"You know, this is actually very good for you," he said. "It works to stabilize your core muscles and provides you with flexibility. All of which are good to hold off the chorea."

"I know. Shhh," she shushed him again. "Just breathe."

"I am breathing," he grumbled.

"You're talking," she said. "You're supposed to empty your mind of the senseless chatter. Thoughts come in and then go out, without actually coming out of your mouth. You can't breathe if you're talking."

House rolled his eyes. "That's a physical impossibility. You have to breathe when you talk, the air vibrates over your vocal chords…"

Remy grabbed his lips and clamped them shut with her fingers. "Hush. I come here to silence my mind from your endless dialogue I hear all day. So do us both a favor and just breathe, without the commentary."

House was silenced. They did one more pose on the floor and then it was time to move to the standing, 'energizing' poses. This was where it got really difficult for him. Not only couldn't he stop thinking about random shit, but he found these poses to be very strenuous. Of course, Margaret modified them to accommodate his leg, which really wasn't all that difficult. They used blocks and a chair with some blankets on it to support his weight. Even with the props, he was sweating. A lot. These poses were kicking his ass. On more than one occasion when Remy reminded him to breath did he actually find himself holding his breath. Breathing was an involuntary process; people shouldn't have to be reminded to breathe. But sure enough, he had stopped breathing, repeatedly. This yoga stuff was hard and complicated and he found himself relying on her for support both physically and emotionally. In a couple of poses, he really did have to trust her and that was a new concept for him. To rely on someone else to support his body weight was interesting.

It was also highly sexual. Some of the poses had them rubbing right up against each other in their naughty places. Currently, they were in something called the standing camel. Their hips were joined, their arms were linked while they leaned backward like their torsos were the drooping limbs of the weeping willow. His penis hadn't been this close to her in days and he had to think about his med school mnemonics to occupy his brain, otherwise he'd be pitching a tent and poking her in the eye. Sperm pathway through male reproductive tract - SEVEN UP: Seminiferous tubules, Epididymis, Vas deferens, Ejaculatory duct, Nothing, Urethra, Penis.

Penis… stop thinking about the penis. That was his problem in the first place. Remember idiot, breathe.

Descending abdominal aorta branches from diaphragm to iliacs, "Prostitutes Cause Sagging Swollen Red Testicles (in men) Living In Sin": Phrenic (inferior), Celiac, Superior mesenteric, Suprarenal (middle), Renal, Testicular ("in men" only), Lumbars, Inferior mesenteric, Sacral…

Yeah, thinking about testicles wasn't going to help him either. Breathe.

As what was left of the muscles in his thigh started to ache, he shifted his hand to her forearm so he could hold on better… Arms, think about arms, completely less sexual. Anterior forearm muscles: superficial group "Pimps Fuck Prostitutes For Fun": Pronator teres, Flexor carpi radialis, Palmaris longous, Flexor carpi ulnaris, Flexor digitorum superficialis…

That wasn't helping. Why were all the mnemonics sexual in nature? Drunk, horny college kids, that's why. God, he was so fucked.

Finally, they were upright. "Certain Doctors Luv Saddling Coeds," he voiced accidentally out loud. She arched an eyebrow at him and he gave her a chagrined smirk, "Vertebrae subtypes."

She smiled at him. "Cervical, Dorsal, Lumbar, Sacrum, Coccyx." She inched closer to him, "You should think about baseball. All of the mnemonics are perverted."

"Sure, baseball. I can't get past first base and you want me to contemplate hitting a ground rule double to drive in a run," he grumbled in her ear. "Yeah, that'll keep me from thinking about how I'm not allowed to hit a homerun."

She chuckled a bit and stepped away from him. He shook himself and let out a deep breath from his lips. Her skin was dewy and slightly flushed in the bare parts underneath her thin-strapped tank top. The clear royal blue accented the slight tan of her skin and the tight pants she wore rode low on her hips exposing her taut abdomen right underneath the indent of her belly button. She was sweaty and gorgeous and it was all he could do to control himself.

"Now we will move thoughtfully into our restorative poses," Marianne announced in her dulcet voice. "Take your partner's hand and gently guide each other to the floor." She moved quickly over to them. "Remy, be sure to support Greg as he comes down to his knees. And you trust her to be there for you."

House latched onto her delicate wrists and lowered himself to the floor grinning at her as he went. Finally, he was face to face with a tight yoga toned ass, for the most part anyway. Her tiny little belly button was at his eye level and he couldn't help himself so he pressed a kiss to it. She let out a surprised little gasp and dropped her hands to his head. "Greg!"

"Oh that's alright," Marlene expressed. "Couples yoga is about connection and bringing unity to the individual spirit. Greg is showing how his bond has deepened to be able to express how he feels in a safe and intimate way."

"Yes, Remy, I'm expressing just how deeply I want to be bound to you right now," he play acted holding onto her hips and looking up at her with puppy dog eyes. "Locked, just like a key in a hole."

She smirked down at him, knowing full well he was mocking the process with his double entendre. Shaking her head, she knelt in front of him bring her arms around his neck. "Yes, like a sword in a sheath. Or a hand in a glove. Or maybe even a finger in frosting. Just ready to lick…"

"Ok, we get the picture," he cut off her teasing with a frustrated grumble. She was such a minx. And he loved it. But just not here with Madeline hovering over their shoulder.

They came into position for one of their last poses. It was called child's pose. Miriam had him kneel behind Remy as she folded herself into the true arrangement, curled up like a little ball forehead facedown on the floor, arms stretched out over her head. "Now, Greg, you are going to get as close to Remy as you can and place your hands flat on her sacrum," the guru instructed, showing him how to lay his palms. "Now, lovingly caress all of the stress from her body upward and out, as you move forward and come to lay your chest over her spine."

House looked at the woman for a minute. "I'm going to lay on top of her?" he questioned. "How's she going to breathe?"

Muriel chuckled at him. "Don't worry, she will be fine," she assured him. "Normally we do this the other way, with you spine to spine, arcing over her, but for you, I think this is better. Plus it's more intimate."

"Great," he muttered. The front of his hips were pushed right up against her beautiful backside. If they got any more intimate, he'd need a condom.

Maxine placed her hands over his from behind, guiding him upward until he was about half way overtop and then stepped out of their demented three-way and supervised.

"Gently slide your hands all the way to meet hers, finishing with your palms on top of hers," she told him. He could feel Remy's ribcage expand and contract beneath him as she flipped her hands over to meet his.

"Now Remy, turn your head to the side and Greg gently rest your head on hers and just breathe."

House had to take in an inhale and exhale purposefully because he had forgotten to breath again. This felt nice. Thankfully, Meredith left them to their own devices and went to interject herself into another couple's private moment. "Am I crushing you?" he asked in a whisper, since her ear was directly under his jaw.

"Nope," she reassured him and he could feel her smile beneath him.

"How is your leg?"

"It's fine," he said.

"Are you having fun?"

"I like this," he admitted. "The rest wasn't bad."

"Would you want to do it again?" she asked him curiously.

"If I can walk tomorrow, then we'll see," he told her. It wouldn't be so bad if they did this again. He got to touch her openly in public and the whole thing was kind of an interesting experience.

House closed his eyes and just stilled for a moment. He reminded himself to breathe in deeply and slowly. He could smell the essence of her perfume mingling with the fresh scent of her perspiration and the shampoo in her hair. If there was a scent that he had to fill his lungs with, it would be this.

Slowly they came out of the pose and switched but it wasn't as cool of a feeling because she was doing the backbend over top of him. Her flexibility astounded him. He was proud that she had taken such care of herself and was glad because it really was beneficial for her. If anything, he would do this with her again because of that.

The class came to a close and they dressed warmly in their sweatshirts and coats before getting ready to go outside into the cold night air.

"Greg, you did wonderfully tonight," Miranda complimented graciously. "The more you work your flexibility, the more you will be able to quiet your mind and center, gaining a richness from the experience."

Remy stepped forward and took the woman's hand in hers. "Thank you so much, Margot. It was an amazing class."

Margot! Her name was Margot! House muttered a shy thanks and followed Remy outside. "Well, that was different," he said not really knowing what else to say.

Remy linked her arm in his and gave him a squeeze. "Thank you for enduring that with me."

He shrugged. "It wasn't terrible."

"Margot's right you know," she told him. "It would be good for your mind be still for a little while."

"Yeah, that's never gonna happen," he said doubtfully.

"You never know," she told him optimistically. "Plus the exercises would be good for you. Do you know that Margot is seventy?"

"What? Bullshit!" House stopped dead in his tracks. "She's not a day over forty-five. Fifty-five, maybe."

Remy laughed. "Seriously. She's seventy. That's the benefit of yoga."

"And here I thought it was to 'build trust and open connection to your partner'," he paraphrased sarcastically.

Chuckling, she threaded her arm through his again and resumed walking to her car. "Yeah, that too. I bet if you tell Nolan what we were doing, he'd find it extremely beneficial."

"Probably," he agreed begrudgingly. His stomach grumbled and he had an idea. "Want to go for a caramel macchiato and a warm brownie?"

"Oh, most definitely, sir." She giggled and pressed her head against his shoulder. "People can bond over warm gooey chocolate too!"