Sessions 14: The Phillies, Really?

I do have to apologize…I'm such a potty mouth!! My story is rated T because I don't really think I'll be getting into too much smut. It's a love story not a porno, much to House's dismay, he doesn't like it when I make him all emotional, but I tell him shut up, that's too bad. Anywhoo… the Fuck word just has so many wonderful grammatical qualities. And I love it! Besides I think my 9 year old said fuck the other day…what is this world coming to, honestly…

House crossed his legs on the coffee table and took another sip of his bourbon. He was lounging comfortably on the sofa watching the Phillies game. They were up two nothing in the bottom of the 6th. Two outs and Manny Ramirez was at bat; the count was 1 – 2. Hammels pitched a rocket fastball over the plate and damn it, homerun. Fucking Manny.

There was a knock at his door. Stupidly he craned his neck over the sofa to look at the door as if it were transparent and he could see who was on the other side. There was another knock and he sighed heavily looking at the digital time on his TiVo. 12:15AM. Who the hell was knocking on his door at this hour? If it was one of the ducklings, there was going to be clinic duty to pay.

Hoisting his bum leg off the table he stood, stumbled before regaining his balance and trod awkwardly over to the door. "This better be good, " he griped.

He swung the door open. He reeled back a touch because he couldn't believe his eyes. It was Cate. Stunned, he watched her confidently stride into his living room in a pair of ridiculously sexy jeans and sassy leather jacket with that dumb purple scarf from earlier. She was gorgeous as hell.

"Put your shoes on, we're going for drinks, " she ordered gently coming to a stop at the back of the sofa.

"Umm, I'm half in the bag already, " he declared closing the door and hop stepping it back around to the sofa.

"Then I have some catching up to do, " she muttered and turned to look at the TV. "Oh, shit the Phillies are on. It's Game 5 of the NLCS. If they win this, they go to the World Series. I can't believe I forgot."

"You like baseball?" he slipped on his sneakers without hesitation.

"Phillies fanatic, born and raised, " she said taking a blatant gander at his apartment.

Hmm, baseball fan. House twisted his mouth into an impressed grin and rose to retrieve his leather jacket from the coat rack. "Manny just hit a homer off of Hammels."

She shook her head. "Fucking Manny. I hate that guy."

"You and the rest of the his former American League competitors, " he said grabbing his cane and clicking off the television before ushering her out of the door. "So, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"A shitty day at work. I need a stiff drink and some good company, " she explained.

"How about some stiff company and a good drink, " he waggled is eyebrows punctuating his innuendo. "Those jeans are making me feel a little frisky."

"I saw a little sports bar around the corner, " she ignored his comment and stepped out onto the sidewalk. "Do you know it?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I know it."

They walked at a casual pace down the sidewalk that led past his building and around the corner. It was a quite chilly out since it was the middle of the night. He could see her breath as she breathed into the cold night air next to him. She looked cold but didn't complain. Spontaneously, he grabbed her hand and laced his fingers in hers. She glanced at him and smiled. Something warm stirred inside him. It must have been the Vicodin and bourbon having a conversation because it certainly wasn't his pre-pubescent sentimentality talking.

After a few minutes, they finally reached Fletcher McGee's Pub. The place was crowded tonight, no doubt because of the game. Every table and spot at the bar was filled. The game played noisily on all three of the large plasma screens over the bar and in the corner by the karaoke machine. Cate, still holding tightly onto his hand, threaded their way through the crowd to the bar. She let go as they had to let a waitress with a loaded tray of beers pass through. He kept an eye on her watching intently as she slid up along side a young guy in a Phillies jersey and tattered ball cap drinking a beer on a stool at the bar with is buddies.

"Hey, would you mind giving a lady a seat, " she asked coquettishly slipping her hand slowly up his bicep to his shoulder. House watched in amazement as the dude was entranced by her within seconds and got up to give her his barstool. "Thanks so much." She added a saucy grin and a wink and he could swear the kid actually blushed. She shifted the stool to her left side and waited for him to reach her. Taking her coat off, she placed it on the back of the stool. "Look, honey, I found you a seat, " she said loudly offering him her chair.

"Hey!" The young guy looked like he'd had parking space stolen from him at the mall. House shrugged and held up his cane to make the kid feel like more of an ass.

"My friend here can't stand for long periods of time, get over it, " she said turning her attention back to House as he sat down, removing his own coat.

"Thanks, " he muttered. He wasn't accustomed to having someone watch out for him or accommodate him because of his leg. It was a little weird. He was quickly over it however when she positioned herself in front of him in between his legs, flagging the bartender down to order drinks. Her pert denim covered ass rubbed enticingly against his inner thighs. This he could get used pretty damn fast.

Harry, the bartender, approached. "What's up Doc? Haven't seen you for a while."

House shook the burly man's proffered hand. "Been busy, Harry. I will have the usual and the lady will have…"

"An Irish car bomb, " she stated.

House eyed her, once again she surprised him. "Actually make that two."

"Alright then, " Harry said, giving House an approving glance before going off to get their drinks.

"You really do need a stiff drink, " he said when she turned around to face him. "What's wrong?"

"It was a crazy night in the ER, " she said lowering her eyes reflectively. "I'm normally not effected by the stupid things people do but, tonight… was just hard."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he found himself asking before he could stop himself.

"Let's see, I had a three homeless people looking for a bed because it's getting cold out, two meth addicts, a bulimic who swallowed a fork because her gag reflex is shot, a guy who had a nervous break-down at a gas station because it cost him $120.00 to fill up his Tahoe so he set the pump on fire and a twelve-year old who hung herself from the balcony over her parents living room. And it's only a Wednesday." She gave him a little smile and straightened the unruliness of his collar. "To think that you're special kind of warm fuzzies is my idea of a pick me up."

"Who knew, " he quipped. Harry returned with their drinks and he received a proverbial "thumbs up" from behind Cate's back before she turned to face the bar. The bartender set up the two half pints of Guinness and then filled the shot glasses with whisky and Bailey's. Bringing his attention back to the lovely woman standing between his thighs, House raised his two glasses waiting for her to do the same. "Here's to forgetting about the day and the Phillies."

"Amen, " Cate said dropping her shot in immediately chugging her pint down like a college frat partying aficionado. House followed suit slamming his glass down on the bar when he was done. She smiled dreamily at him and trailed her finger along his upper lip before licking off the chocolaty tasting foam. His breath caught at the top of his lungs at her bold move.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to my place to watch the rest of the game. There's a lot less people and we could be doing this naked?"

"Which is exactly why we should stay right where we are, " she said. "I don't do my best thinking when I'm naked."

"Are you sure, because I'm brilliant enough for the both of us when I'm in the buff?"

She laughed a deep throaty chuckle that nearly sent him dragging her home like a caveman by her hair. "Yeah, I'm sure. I don't want to screw this up with you because we had premature nakage, if you know what I mean."

"Then you're going to have to move out from between my legs, sweetheart."

A beautiful flush spread over her cheeks as the effects of the car bomb and his words hit her. Realizing his full meaning, she gracefully moved positions to stand to the right side of his legs. He felt a little awkward having her so close to his damaged thigh but she seemed to be blissfully unaware of it at the moment. She touched her hands to his arm instead and he watched her watching the television across the bar. The tension was draining from her face leaving her relaxed and joyous. Regretting that he had talked her out of her intimate proximity to him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back into the V space of his thighs. She blinked her eyes heavily at him and then without aying a word leaned against him with her back nuzzling contentedly into his chest. She tipped her head back onto his should and held onto his fingers at her waist happily fixing her attention to the game. He had never felt such comfort with a display of public affection before. With her, it seemed incredibly natural. No, she was right. They definitely shouldn't screw this up with premature "nakage", no matter how much he wanted to throw her up on the bar and ravage her until she screamed out his name in ecstacy.

Lidge was coming in for the ninth inning. Loney singled and then Blake and Kemp both flew out to Victorino in center field. Garciaparra was up. First pitch was a ball, second a fastball: called strike, another ball, a slider: called strike and then a ball in the dirt. Then ,finally, he hit a pop fly and Ruiz ran out to foul territory, Rollins and Lidge coming in, all of them with their eyes glued to the ball. Ruiz caught it and sunk to his knees. The Phillies were going to the World Series.

Cate jumped up and screamed. The whole place erupted with cheering and shouts of victory. For the first time since the early nineties, the Phillies were going to the big show. Cate, thrilled, grabbed him by the neck and kissed him squarely on the mouth in her elation. This was a huge triumph to everyone in the room and most evidently to her. He kissed her back and then smiled when she pulled away.

"Oh my god, I can't believe they did it!"

He nodded his head unable to speak. Something vibrated against his groin. He screwed his face into a perplexed sidelong glance. He knew he'd had a lot to drink this evening but vibrations like that only came from battery powered devices.

"Is that your phone?" he queried.

She laughed and removed it from her jeans pocket. "Yes. Excuse me, " she said answering it.

"Dad? Hi – Yes! Can you believe it?" She placed her finger in her other ear and shouted into the phone. "What? I know, 15 years - I heard Hammels was amazing. No, didn't see the beginning of the game. Yeah, wish I was there too…" she looked at House. Her eyes told him she was lying to her father and that she was happier right where she was with him. "Where am I? I'm in a bar – yes, yes, I know, Dad. Ok, I will… don't worry I have a bodyguard and he's pretty ferocious." House snarled his teeth at her playfully and she stifled a giggle. "I'll be ok. Alright, love you too – bye."

She clicked the phone off and stuck it back into her pants pocket. "I'm almost forty and he's still protecting me." A round of shots was placed on the bar before them. The whole bar cheered and partook in a celebratory shot of tequila.

Placing his glass onto the bar he asked, "Does he frequently call you at 1:15 AM to talk baseball?"

She shook her head and laughed. "No, only the last two division series. Baseball keeps us close, " she explained and placed her own glass down. "When I was a little girl, every night there was a game, I would curl up on his lap and watch the first two innings before I'd pass out and he'd put me to bed. He would tell me in the morning how fantastically they had won. So, I never knew how bad the Phillies really sucked until I got much older. But, by then it was a dysfunctional, enabling relationship I couldn't break free from. I loved them because my dad loved them. And here we are…"

"That's a tragic story."

"But sometimes, they have happy endings."

"It'll only be a happy ending if they beat the Red Sox in the World Series."

"It's going to be Tampa Bay, " she said confidently. "They're good but they're green."

"I don't know…" he said skeptically.

"We should make a bet, " she challenged.

"Oh yeah, what are the stakes?"

"If I win, you have to do four hours of clinic duty without a single complaint, " she declared.

"Cuddy?" he said quizzically pretending to look around for his nemesis.

"Just helping the woman out a little , " she said with a silly laugh.

"Ok, fine, if I win, then you have to do four hours of clinic for me, wearing one of those naughty nurse uniforms, " he added with a sly grin.

"Only if the clinic's in your apartment."

"It might as well be, I feel like I live there, " he whined. "Deal?"

"Deal, except no naughty nurse's uniform." She yawned unexpectedly and then giggled leaning her head into his shoulder.

"Time to go Cinderella, " he said reaching around to put his jacket on and then helping her into hers. Carefully he led her back out onto the sidewalk into the crisp night air. He needed the fresh slap in the face to keep his mind functioning soundly instead of on the extremely gorgeous, tipsy woman, now clutching onto his free arm for balance. "You're a light weight, you know."

"The last thing I ate was around 9:30." She said in response.

"No driving home for you tonight, " he told her as they rounded the corner of his building coming up to his stoop.

"Sounds like a plan, " she mumbled letting him usher her back into his apartment.

He switched on the lights and helped her out of her jacket before giving her a light shove in the direction of his bedroom.

"I'm not having sex with you, " she stated but didn't protest as he gave her firmer pressure to move forward.

"I know, we're going to sleep," he told her guiding her to the bed. Once she was safely seated, he grabbed her a t-shirt and a pair of jammie pants and tossed them onto the bed for her. "Get changed, I'm going to lock up." Grabbing his own jammie pants he went into the bathroom to change and take of his business before he hobbled back into the living room to put on the deadbolt and turn out the lights. He paused before making his way back down the short hall to his room and rubbed his hand over his face cursing himself for what he was about to do. If Wilson knew that he was about to curl up along side a sexy, perfectly healthy woman and not have sex with her, he would never let him hear the end of it. He would spew words like chivalrous…gentleman…blah…blah…blah.

He wrapped lightly on the door with the back of his knuckles. She called for him to come in, as strange as that was to be invited into his own bedroom. She sat crossed legged in the middle of his bed. He realized then that he had given her his favorite T-shirt, The WHO. This kiss of death for any band was when you gave your girlfriend your favorite band shirt. Fuck, he'd just called her his girlfriend and broke up the WHO in one fell swoop.

She smiled an awkward little smile at him. "Thank you for letting me stay."

Limping with difficulty to the bed without his cane, he collapse heavily into bed and motioned for her to get under the covers. "It was all a ruse to keep you as my prisoner. Now that you've entered the lair, you'll be a slave to my every whim." She laughed tiredly and climbed under the covers with a yawn.

He reached over and turned out the light leaning back against his pillow. Easily, she rolled to her side and placed her head on his chest draping her arm over his stomach as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. He pulled her in tight with his arm placed his hand over hers on his belly quickly falling into a deep and restful slumber.