A/N: Thanks for reading and commenting. I'm glad you're still with me. Here's a nice long chapter for you.

Guest: I don't know how it is where you are, but here in BC you CAN consult with/use an attorney to help prepare for a case in small claims court or use one as a mediator.

Chapter 11

House looked at the remaining wine in the bottle and put the cast iron skillet back on the stove. He added some wine to it and made a glaze.

"What are you doing?" Tori asked peering over his shoulder.

"Making a red wine reduction to pour over the steak."

"Interesting."

"Yeah. Except we're going to need another bottle of wine with dinner."

"You just want to get me drunk so I'll spill all my secrets," she said playfully.

"Yeah, and?"

Tory laughed as she selected another bottle of red and twisted the cap off. "I'm not sure whether to be afraid or amused."

"Conversation, like other parts of the anatomy, always runs smoother when it's lubricated," he said as he scraped bits from the bottom of the skillet.

She wasn't sure why, but what he said, and the way he said it sent shockwaves straight to her core and she blinked. "Where have I heard that before?"

"It's from a movie, I can't remember which one, but it was sexy."

"It sounds sexy," she replied. "Maybe we should watch it."

"If I can remember which it is, then yeah. Dinner's ready," he said as he took the garlic bread out of the oven and put it on the table with the Caesar salad. Then he poured the wine. "Too bad we don't have any candles."

"No emergency candles?" she asked.

"If there are, I haven't seen them."

"Hmmm," Tory said as she went over to a wooden cupboard and opened it. Inside were emergency supplies and some plain white candles.

"Very nice. But there aren't any holders."

She went into the hall where there was a dresser and opened it, taking two silver holders out.

"I'm not going to ask how you knew those were there," he commented.

Tory shrugged as she grabbed the matches and lit the candles. "I have my ways. And I did stay here for awhile when I first started coming up."

"Yeah, Brynn told me."

"How is Brynn? Have you heard anything?" she asked as she sat down and put her napkin in her lap.

"No, nothing. I assume she's back home with her family. I did call, but they wouldn't tell me anything."

"That's too bad."

He shrugged as he scooped some Caesar salad onto his plate and grabbed a couple pieces of garlic bread. "It is what it is."

Tory raised her glass to his and they clinked together. "Should we make a toast?"

"To what?" he asked.

The intense look he gave her kept those shockwaves coming. She figured it was probably the wine, but she didn't care. She hadn't had those feelings in years.

"Getting to know each other."

"Quid pro quo," he said once again in his Hannibal voice, which made her giggle.

"You're too good at that. It's creepy."

"And you like it.'

"Yeah it's... amusing."

They took a sip of their wine and began eating. He told her a few more stories about the clinic patients he had, causing her to laugh so hard at one of them, she almost choked.

"You did NOT say that to the kid."

"I did. I said it just like that, Is your mom a big fat idiot?. And the kid even nodded. Now that's balls."

"Was she fat?"

"No, actually. She was quite attractive and very curvy. But I was having a bad day so..."

"Seems you were always having a bad day," she commented as she forked up some salad.

"I hated the clinic. It was hell. But sometimes I found my most interesting cases there so it had its moments, that's for sure."

"Sounds like it."

When they finished, Tory started to clear the plates.

"Did we get anything for dessert?" he asked her as he got up to help put the dishes in the sink.

"Yeah, I picked up a pumpkin pie, but I'm too full right now," she said as she filled the sink with hot, soapy water and began to wash dishes. House felt an overwhelming sense of deja vu from when he and Stacy washed dishes at her place. He had been helping her catch a rat and then they somehow ended up washing dishes together until her husband came home. He gave his head a shake to clear it and grabbed a dish towel.

"You okay?" Tory asked him.

"Yeah. Just… remembering."

"Remembering what?"

He shrugged. "Some random time, washing dishes with my ex when I probably shouldn't have been there."

"Why weren't you supposed to be there?"

"She was married and her husband wasn't home."

She nodded but didn't say anything more, turning her attention back to the dishes.

"Being up here does that."

"What?" he asked as he dried a plate.

"Makes you reminisce. I mean, what else is there to do up here?"

"Sleep?"

She chuckled as she handed him a dish. "Well yeah, there's that. I think it's the elevation, the fresh air and the quiet. It relaxes you and makes you want to sleep."

"Yeah, I noticed that."

"I sleep way too much but I figure I earned it after spending hours of sleepless nights as a lawyer preparing for cases or as a Judge, being kept awake at night wondering if I made the right decision."

"The first decision is usually the correct one," he said.

"Well aren't you the wise one," she teased as she passed him another dish but then jerked her hand away. "Ouch! Fuck!" she grabbed her hand and stared at the blood oozing out of a small gash.

"What happened?"

"The dish was cracked I guess, and it got me. Owww..it's stinging already," she groaned as she grabbed for the paper towels with her other hand.

House left the kitchen to get his medical kit. When he came back, he noticed she looked very pale.

"Raise your hand in the air, and sit down. Now," he ordered.

"Yes, Doctor," she smirked, but did ast he said because she was feeling rather light headed. "Now I understand how you knew to treat my injuries when I laid down my bike months ago."

"Yep. Now shut up and let me see it," he said as he opened the kit and took out some supplies, laying them on the table like a surgeon preparing for an operation.

"Once a doctor, always a doctor, huh?"

"You know it." He put some antiseptic on a cotton ball and started cleaning the cut.

"Fuck! That burns," she hissed.

"It's supposed to. Stop being a baby," he admonished.

"I take it you didn't excel as a doctor from your bedside manner."

"God, no. What good is a nice bedside manner when someone is dying? When your last day comes do you want a doctor who's going to hold your hand as you die, or a prick of a doctor who will come up with the answer that will save your life? Because for me, I'll want the prick."

"I think someone's seen Patch Adams too many times," she chuckled.

He laughed. "There was a camera crew at the hospital once, following me and my team around because of a high profile patient. When they asked me about why I became a doctor, I jokingly said it was because of the movie Patch Adams."

Tory laughed even harder, forgetting about the pain temporarily. "Of course they took it literally and it ended up in the documentary."

"Oh, God, yeah." he said. "It was horrid, but fun to evade the cameras at every chance. The MRI room was used a lot, since they couldn't go in there with their cameras."

"Clever."

Once he had the cut cleaned, he examined it closer, holding her hand gently as he looked it over. "It's just a flesh wound," he said in a John Cleese tone of voice.

"Tis but a scratch," she added.

"Very nice," he said as he placed a heavy band-aid over the cut. He was still holding her hand, and she noticed how soft his were, aside from the callouses on the tips of his fingers. They were most likely from playing the guitar for years.

"We should have a jam session later, maybe," she suggested.

"Yeah, we could do that," he said with a nod as he continued to examine her hand, gently tracing the lines along her palm.

"What, are you a palm reader too?" she teased.

He glanced up at her and smirked. "In a past life."

"Uh-huh. And what do you see?"

"You've led a very long and interesting life, but you've had no real loves. What a shame."

She shrugged. "Hard to do that with an occupation like mine. I'm sure you didn't have much free time as a doctor."

"True. But I made time for the things that were important. Medicine was first in my life, but I didn't neglect the other things."

"Sadly, I can't say the same. I loved my work and would often lose myself in it for days at a time."

"I would too. It drove people nuts, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make because it saved lives."

"I did Google you, you know," she admitted, still letting him hold her hand.

"So you said."

"I did?"

"Yeah," he said. "I would do the same if I had decent internet here."

"It's not so good at my place either but it's enough for all I need."

"Yeah I guess."

"It keeps me in touch with the world at any rate. So is my hand okay now or do you need to keep holding it?" she asked him.

When he glanced up at her, he saw she was smiling, looking very amused.

"Does it still sting?" he asked.

"Not as bad as before. Thanks."

"I guess you'll be drying from now on," he said, his voice remarkably softer than before.

"Yeah. Come on, there aren't many dishes left and then we can have dessert," she told him.

"Yes, Mom," he said with a comedic sulk as he let go of her hand and followed her back to the sink.

Once they were done, she went to the fridge and took the pie and the whipped cream out.

"You bought whipped cream too? I think I'm in love," he grinned.

"Interesting," she said as she took a knife to slice it up. She was about to cut another slice when she felt him come up behind her and place his hand over hers.

"I want a bigger piece than that," he said in her ear. He was standing so close she could feel his body heat against her back and normally that would bother her. She didn't like people invading her personal space.

"Okay fine. What about this?" she asked as she positioned the knife.

"That's more like it," he said and stepped back. "Carry on."

She chuckled to herself and shook her head as she took out a couple of plates and added a very generous amount of whipped cream to each piece.

"We're eating in here," he called from the living room. She could hear music playing and her heart began to race a little.

Was this his way of seducing her? It certainly seemed that way. The way he touched her when he fixed the cut on her hand, the way he stood so close behind her. It made her shiver, and not in a bad way. She didn't know what was going on, but she liked it. She liked it a lot. It was years since a man had that effect on her. House made her feel attractive and desired. Yet, he hadn't made any real moves on her. Somehow she almost hoped he would. Greg House was a very intense man and she could see why Brynn kept him around.

She shrugged it off and took their pie into the living room. House had gotten a decent fire going again, soft blues music was playing on the stereo and he was standing by the window looking out.

"Anything interesting out there?" she asked him.

"No, not really. Nobody's out fishing."

"It's too cold to be out on the water. Especially when the wind picks up. Come on, pie's ready."

He turned around and returned to the couch where she handed him his plate. "I love a woman who doesn't skimp on the whipped cream."

"It's not a pumpkin pie unless it's entirely covered."

"A woman after my own heart," he said between bites. It seemed like he all but inhaled it, because she was only halfway through her piece.

"Wow. You plowed through that?"

"Yep. And I'm considering another piece," he said as he reached over and dipped a finger into her whipped cream.

"Hey!"

She watched as he placed his finger in his mouth and sucked the whipped cream off of it.

Jesus, Tory, get a grip! she thought to herself as she watched his hand reach out once more but this time she grabbed him by the wrist.

"Mine," she growled and continued eating. After taking her plate to the kitchen, she turned around after putting her dish in the sink, she jumped when she saw House standing, once again, in her personal space.

She backed up a little until she was against the sink, waiting. For what, she didn't know. Her heart was pounding so hard it was all she could hear.

House cocked his head to one side and took her in. She looked like a trapped animal and he didn't know why. He thought she was into him. However, when he looked into her eyes he didn't see fear, but arousal.

He slipped one arm around her slim waist and pulled her away from the sink while his other hand took hers.

"Wanna dance, Tory?" he asked as they began to sway to the music from the other room.

"I wouldn't mind," she said softly, still not sure exactly what was going on. She followed his lead back into the living room and just gave into the moment as she rested her cheek against his chest, as he was considerably taller. He smelled like cigar smoke, whatever soap he used and the spice of pumpkin pie. She liked it.

"This is nice," she whispered as they continued to sway back and forth to the song.

And unbelievably cliche and corny, he thought to himself, but he was happy if she was happy. It felt good to hold someone like that. He'd forgotten what it was like. But then, he and Cuddy never really had romance. The last time he could even remember remotely seducing someone was when he was with Dominika. If he were honest, she seduced him, not the other way around.

He pulled her a little closer and she let go of his hand so she could wrap her arms around his neck. It was quite a stretch for her, however, and he was sure that it couldn't be comfortable for very long. He unclasped her hands from his neck and she looked at him in question.

Now seemed as good a time as any. There was so much tension that he needed to do something to break the ice. Kissing her seemed like the only logical next step.

He placed his hands on her shoulders at first, but then gently cupped her face, his thumb gently brushing over her soft lips. He could swear he heard her breath hitch as her eyes fluttered closed.

That's my cue, he thought and lowered his head and tentatively brought his lips down on hers. At first it was a feather-like kiss but her mouth opened under his and her arms wrapped around his neck once more as he kissed her again with more intent. In his head he heard what sounded like ice or glass shattering and the room was spinning around them as a song from Velvet Revolver somehow made it into the playlist. It was a suitable tune, about falling down and into pieces. That's exactly how he felt. She had unhinged him to the point that the room was still spinning. She was kissing him back, following his example of keeping it light but intense at the same time. He wasn't sure how long they were standing there, but figured that it was at least several minutes before the song ended and their lips slowly drifted apart.

Tory was in shock. Where did that come from? And how can I make it happen again?

"Wow," was all she could think of to say. There were no words. Nobody ever kissed her like that before. She felt like an awkward teenager after her first kiss, but his was nothing like that day all those years ago.

The wind picked up outside, rustling through the trees and she could hear her boat rubbing against the dock.

"I should go before it gets rough out there."

"What? Now?" he asked, feeling defeated. He wanted her to stay. He wanted more of her. Much, much more.

"I… it's dark…"

"It's been dark for hours," he pointed out.

"Yeah but…"

"What's wrong? Did I overstep or… something?" he asked.

"No. God, no," she said as she went into the kitchen to get her coat. House followed her outside and down to the dock, ignoring the cold.

"What is it then? It was just a kiss, Tory."

"Is that all it was?"

"Well, yeah. If you want it to be more, come back inside," he said, with a sexy grin.

"It's not that, it's just…" She shook her head unsure of what to say.

"You're scared. Too much too fast. Got it."

"It's been a hell of a long time, Greg. And…"

"You don't have to explain. I get it. If you want to go, go."

"I don't want to, per se, I should."

House shrugged and turned to go. "Fine. See you when I see you, then."

She watched him climb back up the hill and sighed, suddenly not feeling elated anymore like she did after he kissed her. It was incredible, though. She stood on the dock, feeling conflicted about what to do. Part of her wanted to go back inside and let House kiss the breath out of her, and the other part of her knew if she did that, she would never leave.

"Damn that man!" she hissed and was about to go back up the hill, when a gloved hand covered her mouth.