The Life of the After Party

The Life of the After Party

House had warned Wilson not to move, so Wilson sat and watched as the burlesque club was swiftly turned into a dance club. The small, fashionable club tables vanished amidst a swarm of black clad men while behind the red curtain of the stage a DJ booth was being set up.

"Here, put this on." House was back. Wilson knew this because he'd just shoved a baseball cap into his lap.

"What?"

"Just put it on." House, wearing a tweed golf cap at a jaunty angle over his right eye had his eyes glued to the stage door.

"Why?" Wilson questioned while doing as he was told and placing the cap on his head. "It's a Yankees cap." Wilson had looked at it to make sure it wasn't some clever joke hat House had made for him. "You hate the Yankees."

"Yes. And she knows that, so she won't suspect anything."

It suddenly clicked in Wilson's brain. "You want to spy on her?"

House looked incredulously at his friend. "Well duh." What man wouldn't love the opportunity to watch the woman he loved when she thought he wasn't around?

"You can't do that." Wilson picked up the newspaper someone had left on the bar, and opened it up over his face. "That's wrong on so many levels."

"Is that supposed to stop me?" House chuckled.

"What if you get caught?" Wilson was in full on panic mode.

"What if? She's not going to call the wedding off or she would have done it by now."

"Have you never heard of the straw that..." Wilson stopped when House grabbed the paper and ducked behind it.

"There she is." He peeked his tweed head around the edge of the paper, trying to look casual.

Wilson shook his head. "Really subtle House. She'll never be suspicious of the two guys hiding behind the newspaper. Besides, how many men here do you think have a cane with flames at the bottom."

"Crap!" House grabbed his cane and tossed it to the bartender. "Hold on to that for me."

The bartender, one of Damien's many friends, smirked and hid the cane behind the bar. "Which one is she?" He asked, amused.

"That one," Wilson said, pointing to Cuddy.

"Nice." He went back to washing the glasses.

Damien gave Cuddy a kiss on the cheek. "Beautiful," he said, taking a nice long look at her.

Lo cleared her throat.

"You look beautiful as well," he teased.

"What happened here?" Cuddy looked around. The club had most definitely changed since she vanished into the dressing room.

"I did a little redecorating," Devlin said, coming up behind his brother. "I hope you like it."

"This is more like it." Lo took Devlin's hand and led him out to the dance floor. Cuddy and Damien followed.

"What's she doing with him?" Wilson was really talking about the bearded man who was dancing with Lo, but he could just as easily have meant Cuddy's date.

"It's Wiley," House mused. What was Cuddy doing dancing with the birthday boy himself? Was he an old flame?

"What are you going to do?" Wilson wanted action. "Oh God! He's grabbing her ass!" Wilson wanted to be grabbing Lo's ass, not letting some billionaire casino gigolo do it.

"I think I'm in the mood to dance." House drained his current glass of bourbon, recommended to him by his new best friend Fred the bartender, then took a deep breath.

It was a long walk across the dance floor. He had no idea what kind of noise the DJ was playing, but it was giving him a headache. Cuddy didn't seem to mind. He stopped for a moment and watched her. She was having fun, dancing and laughing. He hadn't seen her this free in a long, long time.

He used to warn her that she partied too much. There wasn't a single party at college that she would turn down, and she was popular, so popular. Why she liked him he could never figure out. He assumed she was using him for his brain, sex for tutoring, which was fine by him. She was great in bed, even then, and he knew everything she wanted to learn. But he kept telling her she had to stop partying.

He nicknamed her Party Pants. She hated the name, but he gave it to her and years later, he discovered she was using it as her password. The thought made him smile.

"What are you doing?" Wilson was by his side.

House was grinning like a fool. He was remembering the first time they'd danced together. It was a night quite like this. She was dancing with some frat boy named Chad. House was seething with jealousy.

"You shouldn't let him grab your ass like that." House pushed Chad out of the way and pulled her into his arms for some dirty dancing. No one would know it now, but he was quite the dancer back then.

"Greg!" She was surprised to see him there. The parties were usually students only. House was an intern, and her tutor, and her lover.

"Hello Lisa." House brushed the hair off her shoulder and kissed her neck. She had long curly hair back then. She claimed to hate it, but he loved it, the way it fell down her back, the way he could wrap his fingers in it when he made love to her.

"Are you just going to let him dance with her?" Back in the present Wilson was as nagging as ever.

"No." House had been energized by the memory of dancing with her. It had been years since he'd held her in his arms and let the music take them away.

He walked over to where Cuddy was being fondled by Damien. "I believe that ass belongs to me."

"House!" Cuddy spun around and nearly toppled over.

"This is Dr. House?" Damien was unfazed. He took his hands off Cuddy and held one out to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Really?" House was taken aback. He'd expected more guilt.

"Yes. Lisa's been talking about you all night. I feel as though we're old friends." Damien looked like he'd just remembered something really important. "Oh, wait, we are. It's Road Runner, isn't it?"

"Road Runner?" Cuddy was confused. "You two know each other?" She thought she'd figured something out. "House, did you hire him to try to seduce me?"

House thought about lying. What could he learn from it? "Yeah. Did he succeed?"

"No he didn't." Damien sounded only mildly disappointed.

"That's it, you're not getting paid now." Damn. House kinda liked the guy.

Damien laughed. "I believe you wanted to grab your fiancé's ass so I'll leave you to it." He excused himself and headed fort he DJ stand. A moment later the music changed to a slow dance.

Cuddy smiled at House. She was a bit light headed, and in no mood to fight, so she put her arms around his neck and leaned against him. "Dance with me House," she purred into his ear.

He really wanted to. He felt her head lean against his shoulder, felt her body press against his and his hands wrapped automatically around her waist. He was going to have to have words with them later. He was supposed to be yelling at her, not holding her in his arms and swaying to the music.

"What are you doing here?" Cuddy whispered against his neck.

"I came to dance with my cheating fiancé." He really wanted to be mad, but she was so warm, and so close.

"I'm not cheating on you House." She loved the way he smelled and inhaled him deeply.

"So who's he?" House was trying hard to stay rigid, to not give in to the low lighting and the soft music.

"Just a friend." Cuddy didn't want to talk about Damien right now. She just wanted to be with her fiancé.

"What kind of friend?"

"The kind I'm not sleeping with." The kind who would do anything for her.

"Good." House didn't want to argue. He just wanted to hold her. "I miss dancing with you," he said, not realizing it was out loud.

"Oh House," she squeezed him tightly. She got up on her toes and kissed him. She didn't hesitate, she just pressed her lips tightly against his, tasting the alcohol on his breath, mingling with his own sweet taste.

After a long, lingering kiss admired by everyone around them, Cuddy fell back down to her heels. "There's an all night chapel just down the road." She wanted to be Mrs. House right now.

"No. You're going to get the wedding you want." He wanted that for her. She asked so little of him, outside of work that is. It was the least he could do. "But don't think you're off the hook."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you are going to pay for flirting with that guy." If Damien had been some balding, fat loser, that would have been one thing, but she was flirting with a filthy rich Greek God. That could not go unpunished.

"What do you mean pay?" She was glad he was teasing her. When he was really mad, well, he'd only been that mad at her once, and she never wanted to go through that again.

"I don't know yet. But I'll think of something." He smiled. Maybe marriage wouldn't ruin everything. Maybe, just maybe, they would be one of those rare couples who made it work.

He pulled her closer even though the music had changed, and swayed rhythmically to his own music. He never ever wanted to let her go.