Sessions 25: Better Night
When Cate knocked at the door later that evening, House practically leapt to his feet to answer it. She was bringing take out Italian for dinner from Mimmo's. They had touched base after he had made it home from his early day at the hospital and agreed that they would do dinner and watch the rest of Game 5 at his place. He opened the door wearing only his T-shirt and jeans. The cool air from the hallway skimmed over his bare toes and he held the door open wide for her to quickly enter with their food packages. It was freezing outside for late October because of the foul weather that had moved in Monday night. He already had a fire going inside to warm the chill away. He shut the door against the drafty outside hall and helped her out of her coat before pulling her swiftly into his arms. He ran his hands down the length of her soft warm sweater against her back and stopped to cup her bottom tightly against him as he kissed her deeply in greeting. She melted into him and kissed him back as she purred seductively against his lips.
"Well, hello to you too, " she said in her throaty voice as she pulled back to look into his eyes.
"You come bringing food and I'm hungry, " he said drawing his attention to the delicious smells coming from the bags on the coffee table. She stepped out of his embrace and went into the kitchen. He could hear the cabinet doors open and plates clinking against the silverware as he sat down and opened the packages to inspect what she had ordered. Veal Saltimbocca, Mussels Marinara, Penne vodka, salad, and garlic roles. His stomach growled in fervent appreciation. He hadn't eaten since his bag of chips while watching General Hospital with Thirteen and it was almost seven o'clock. She returned, deposited the plates and then went back for the bottle of wine he had opened on the counter earlier with two wine glasses. When she came back this time, she slipped off her shoes and sat on the couch to his left tucking her feet under her crossed legs. He poured her a glass and handed it to her before taking his own.
She smiled at him and held out her glass to toast. "Here's to the Phillies winning tonight."
He chuckled and clinked his glass to hers. "How many times have you talked to your father so far tonight?"
"Two, once before he left and once when they got to the seats, " she said placing her glass down so she could help him dish out the food.
He shook his head in bewilderment and held out a plate for her. "I'll bet he's happier than a pig in shit."
She nodded with a smile. "He said that you must be one hell of a doctor for some moron to give up seats like those for Game 5 of the World Series."
He shrugged indifferently. "To be honest, I don't even know who they came from or how exactly Cuddy managed to get them." So, she had told him about that. He wondered briefly what else they talked about.
She regarded him with a warm smile. "Whoever it was, they must have been pretty grateful , nevertheless."
He shook off her praise and dished out a piece of veal for her along with three mussels and some penne. He was never comfortable with compliments, even if they were coming from her. "They were probably from someone Cuddy blew at a fundraiser last year. Where do you think the hospital gets all its money? It doesn't just run itself, you know."
She rolled her eyes at him effectively diverted as she sat back with her plate of food. After piling on his own food onto his plate, he switched the channel from Friends to Sportscenter so they could watch the pre-game analysis. He had caught most of it earlier on PTI and Around the Horn on ESPN when he came home but he figured that she would want to watch since this was probably the first time she sat down to relax all day. She said she had been in and out of the ER and had a full load of appointments today.
"Thirteen came to see you today, " he asked casually after swallowing a mouthful.
"Yes, " she answered circumspectly. "You know that I can't talk about any of it."
He nodded with a frown. "I know. It's good that she'll continue to see you."
"Yes, it will help her cope, " she said.
"It's better than the women and the drugs, " he commented ignoring the irony of that statement coming from his own mouth.
"Hey, kettle?" she kicked him with her foot almost spilling his plate.
He laughed, of course she wouldn't let that one slip by unnoticed. "What? I make it an art form."
"Yeah, ok, " she said. "If that's the spin you want to put on it."
"Yeah, that's the spin I want to put on it, " he said through a chuckle. "She said you were easy to talk to. I said you were just easy…and I think now she wants to ask you out. I told her I wasn't going to share you with her."
"Unless of course you want to share, we could…" she said.
He nearly choked on his penne and coughed to clear the pasta from his throat. She laughed mercilessly at him. "Ha, just kidding."
He frowned a pout at her. "That's cruel to toy with me like that. My emotions are very fragile."
She grinned and eyed him over the rim of her wine glass. "I think I'd like to have you first myself before I would even contemplate sharing."
He looked at his watch. "I'm free right now?" He knew they were just playing but her dark brown eyes stirred a rumbling in his chest that he had to push down and out of the way.
She shook her head and gave him a sad dramatic little frown. "Sorry, I have date with Chase Utley tonight."
"You keep talking about girl on girl and I promise it'll only take like two minutes, " he said with a wiggle to his eyebrows for emphasis.
She raised a finely arched eyebrow at him and he laughed. He needed to end this conversation. Nothing good could come out of it.
They finished eating and cleared up the plates before returning to the sofa with the rest of the wine. He ignored how incredibly domesticated the whole scene was, unwilling to admit that it both scared him and made it happy at the same time. It was like they had been in this choreographed dance for years together except he couldn't dance and somehow they were going to fall of the stage eventually. He pushed the self-deprecating thought back away where it came from and took a swallow of his wine.
Cate leaned her back against the arm of the sofa and pushed her feet under his thigh to warm her toes. He instinctively took her feet out and placed them on top of his thigh. Her feet were bare and he noticed that she had painted her toenails a deep crimson red. Hmm, Sexy. Her feet were cold, of course, and he began to massage the blood flow back into her white extremities.
"Where are your socks?" he reprimanded.
She gave him a sheepish grin. "I was wearing my Steve Madden's. Can't wear socks with them."
"Steve Madden doesn't make shoes that you can wear socks with?" Woman and their stupid shoes.
"Not sexy wedges that go good with jeans, " she protested and then squealed, "Hey!" when he flicked her big toe sending a burn through her foot as a reminder of her need to cover her hands and toes when it was cold.
"You need socks, it's twenty-five degrees outside, " he chided.
"Yes, Daddy, " she mocked and nudged him with her sexy crimson painted toe. Impulsively, he grabbed her leg and pulled her down off the arm of the sofa dragging her close to him flat on her back. She let out a little gasp as her sweater bunched up around her ribs from the sudden motion. His stomach did a flip-flop at the sight of her smooth creamy skin. He leaned over her and pressed his lips to the soft white skin on her stomach earning a scream and a giggle as she tried to writhe away from his bearded chin on her belly.
"Keep calling me Daddy and I'm gonna have to spank you, " he laughed against her stomach and she tightened reflexively bringing her hands up around he back of his head. He breathed in the scent of her skin as she threaded her fingers through his hair. He smiled against her softness and brought his head up to look into her eyes. She smiled down at him and bit her lip as she traced the edge of his ear with her finger tip. The adolescent in him thankfully took over before he almost tore open the fly of her jeans with his teeth and he instead blew a huge raspberry on her exposed belly. She screamed out loud pushing futilely against his head to make him stop. His laugh was full of childish mirth as he pulled her to sitting. "You should go put jammies on. The game is going to start soon."
She leaned into him and ran her hand up his chest before she gently kissed the side of his neck. "But you're wearing my shirt."
He tilted his head to the side shaking his head and made a face at her. "No. I'm wearing my shirt. I let you borrow it. The Who shirt is sacred."
She pouted beautifully and he almost pulled his shirt over his head for her right that second. "Fine, can I wear Pink Flloyd then?"
"Go, " he urged with a smack on her full round ass as she stood. She hurried down the hall tossing a saucy look over her shoulder at him. "And don't forget socks, " he called after her as she disappeared into his room.
He closed his eyes and let out a frustrated breath. He ran his hands up and over his face a few times ending at the back of his head clasping his fingers and pulling his head forward with a groan. He exhaled the remainder of his pent up craving for her and finished both his wine and hers before bringing the glasses into the kitchen sink. He leaned against the cool porcelain edge of the sink for a minute. It was getting harder and harder to keep his hands off of her. She was absolutely exquisite. He could play her like a piano. Every touch was matched with a delicate harmonic response. She was completely in tune to him and the musical lilt of her laughter warmed him to his core. On his way back out of the kitchen, he plunked a few melodic notes on the ivory keys with a contented sigh before going down the hall to change into his own jammie pants. She was magical, no doubt about it.
They were back on the sofa within ten minutes watching the game as it resumed in a flurry of Major League excitement. Joe Buck, Fox Sports announcer, rambled on and on about how this was the most unprecedented event in World Series History, a delay of game in the sixth inning due to weather. Every sports caster from coast to coast had made it the hot topic of debate for the past two days. Should they have called it before it started, should they play in a neutral venue like the Super Bowl, should they have declared the Phillies winners as the score reverted back to the fifth inning? On and on and on. House didn't care. He was just content to watch the rest of the final game with Cate curled up by his side on the sofa instead of out in the cold.
When the Phillies finally won, she jumped to her feet and cheered. He couldn't help but become caught up in her excitement as she wrapped her body around his in a bear hug.
"Oh my freaking God! I can believe this is happening. I was ten the last time they won!" she said.
"Then lets do a shot in celebration, " he suggested. "I bet you weren't allowed to do that when you were ten."
She laughed and shook her head as he hobbled quickly into the kitchen to get two shot glass and his bourbon. Coming back, she excited held the two glasses as he poured and missed a little spilling it on her fingers. She licked her fingers and made a face before handing him his glass. They laughed and clicked glasses throwing back the brown liquid. She cringed and he could see her reaction to the liquid burning her esophagus all the way down to her stomach. She did a little shudder and placed her glass on the coffee table. "That stuff is vile, I don't know how you can drink it."
He shrugged and took another shot for good measure. "I like it."
As if on cue, her cell phone began to ring. She smiled and hurried to grab it out of her purse from the floor behind the couch. "Hi Dad." She turned to look at him an apologetic smile on her lips.
House crossed his arms and leaned against the back of the couch as he listened to her talk excitedly to her dad about the remainder of the game. Her father raved about the seats and the crowd and the emotion of it all. He smiled at the wistful sound in her voice. She loved her father deeply. There was no doubt about that. He had trouble understanding how that was possible. He knew that many normal people had perfectly healthy relationships with their parents. But, he didn't. He hated his father. Pure unadulterated love was never in their equation. There was always disappointment, unrealistic expectations and retribution for imperfection. He would never speak to his father the way she was speaking to hers right now.
She ended the call and kept her back to him raising her head to look at the ceiling. She was crying. She had become overcome by the excitement of the game and her father's joy. Her sentimentality was something he would have made fun of a week ago, but now it was something that endeared her to him more and more. He limped the few steps over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She ran her trembling hands over his arms sighing. He whispered in her ear, "There's no crying in baseball, remember?"
She tried to chuckle but instead turned into him in a full hug and let out a good cry. He held onto her tightly comforting her as she let it out. He ran his hand over her hair and kissed the top of her head. Slowly, she pulled back form him and wiped at her red eyes. She covered her face embarrassed at her impromptu display of emotion. He tilted her chin up and smiled down into her eyes. "You're beautiful."
"I'm going to go wash my face, " she said touching her hand to his chest over his heart and kissed him gently on the lips before heading down the hallway.
He watched her go into the bathroom and went back by the couch to wait for her. He started up the Xbox deciding that a good ass kicking in Soulcalibur IV was what she needed. He set up her pink controller that he had bought her last week and loaded the game into the tray. Just as he sat down on the sofa, his phone unexpectedly rang. He looked at it foreignly wondering who the hell was calling at this hour. He muttered an oath, praying that it wasn't one of the ducklings with a new patient. Without looking at the caller ID he picked it up on the third ring.
"What?" he said distractedly cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder as he cycled through the characters to get to Nightmare.
"Gregory? It's your mother."