XXXVII – Revelations

But tell me, what have I done to deserve you?
Must have done something cause that's how it works
Must have been kind to kittens and birds,
In a previous life must have thought happy thoughts...
-

I Want to Sing- Regina Spektor

………

'I can't believe you tried to replace me with a dog,' he says, eyeing the creature as they are preparing macaroni cheese for dinner in his townhouse.

Their townhouse.

She had insisted on paying half the rent, though he had argued that it wasn't necessary.

'I just wanted some company,' she says, 'but he's not as much fun as you, and he's not allowed in the bed,' she adds, wagging a reprimanding finger at Blue.

'Are they the only distinctions you can come up with?' he says.

She wrinkles her nose at him. 'I think he likes you.'

'Great,' he says sarcastically.

'He wasn't very fond of you in the beginning… you guys didn't get off to a very good start, but I think you'll be great mates.'

House looks at the dog. This creature, sharing his home? This must be love.

She swipes her hand over her face in an attempt to move a strand of loose hair, inadvertently smearing cheese sauce over her cheek.

He laughs at her.

'What?' she says, grinning.

He continues to laugh.

'What?' she demands.

'You've got cheese sauce on your face.'

'Where?'

'There,' he points.

'Here?' she says, wiping an area inches away from the spot.

'No there,' he says, pointing again.

'There?' she asks, missing the spot again.

'Oh here,' he says, gripping her face firmly with one hand under her chin and the other on top of her head.

His tongue protrudes and slaps against her skin as he licks her cheek exaggeratedly.

She laughs hysterically.

'Ok,' she gasps in between snorts of laughter, 'now it's becoming harder and harder to differentiate you from the dog.'

………

'Do you want to paint this place?' he asks, as they sit on opposite sides of the sofa facing one another, their knees and feet mixed together in a jumble, each holding a bowl of mac and cheese under their chin.

'Hmm?' she mumbles, her mouth full, cheeks bulging.

'You're so ladylike,' he teases.

She rolls her eyes and swallows her mouthful of food.

'I'm terribly sorry. Please repeat the question dear,' she jokes.

'Do you want to paint this place? Make it more Lee friendly.'

She smiles. 'It's Lee friendly,' she says, knocking her knees against his, 'it's my favourite place to be.'

'I'm aware that it screams bachelor,' he says, 'so, you know, you can paint it and move your own stuff in, if you want…'

He says this last comment reticently, looking into his bowl and stabbing his fork into the pasta mush.

When he looks up again, he finds that she has pushed her way in past his knees and is grinning in his face. She places a quick kiss on his lips before slumping back into her corner of the couch, still smiling at him.

'You're gorgeous,' she announces.

'I liked the décor in your old apartment,' he says defensively.

'I sold most of that stuff,' she says, 'or left it in Australia with Miranda.'

'What about your paintings and photos,' he says, 'you brought them back with you.'

'Yeah,' she nods.

He knows they are her prized possessions.

'I have plenty of walls,' he says, 'and some of the stuff I have up there is crap.'

He gestures to the wall.

'You have much better taste,' he adds, looking into his bowl again.

'Alright,' she says, 'my original Norman Lindsey pencil drawing has no place in the hall closet.'

'Good,' he says, 'we'll put that one up first then.'

………

He offers to take her to the hospital on his bike.

She agrees.

He waits for her as she readies herself for work.

She progresses through her morning ritual, and he closes the lid on the toilet seat so that he can sit and watch her. She pulls her hair back and splashes her face with water. She cleans her teeth and she moves to stand in front of him while she does this so that she can touch his face with her free hand, her fingers dancing softly over his features as she brushes. She pays particular attention to the line of whiskers just bellow his bottom lip, and she ponders the fact that her tongue always seems to be pressed flat against this when she kisses him. She squeezes his nose playfully before returning to the sink to floss. She applies various lotions and potions. She sprays her antiperspirant. She swallows her little pink pill and he feels like saying: Do you really need to take that? Would it be so bad if you got pregnant again?

He is simultaneously horrified and contented by this thought of his.

He thinks it is rather Catholic, but in a way, he feels bad for deliberately preventing something that should occur so naturally out of love.

'I'm going to Canada for a week,' she announces.

'When?'

'Friday. There's a conference in Ontario.'

'Oh,' he says simply. She can sense the disappointment in his voice.

'Cuddy's conditions for re-hiring me.'

She watches him staring into the shower.

'I'll bring you a souvenir,' she says, joking, 'maple syrup?'

He turns to her and forces a smile.

'Come on,' she says, patting his knee as she moves past him, 'I'll get dressed, lets go to work.'

………

People have started to talk. They have tried, half-heartedly, to remain inconspicuous but it is the subtle things that give them away. It is in the way she looks at him, the smile she gives him. It is in the way his rate of speech slows when she passes his office, the way his head turns to watch her, the obvious shift in his attention. They thought it would have been obvious when they arrived together on his bike. He had expected it to be their grand entrance together, and yet no one was there to witness it, and he found himself disappointed by this.

At lunch time, they walk down the main hall side by side. There is a good, professional, distance between them, half an arms length. Though they do not say a word to each other, they both display a smug smile, as if they are concealing a salacious secret. They stride confidently together – her hips swaying as she takes easy steps in her five inch heels and his cane moving in perfect synchronisation with his long legs. Wilson watches them from his position by the elevator. He hadn't even been aware of House's return, and is especially surprised by Lee's return. In fact, he hadn't even been aware of House's departure until Cuddy had informed him of his 'long service leave.' The man had been especially reclusive in the weeks before he had left New Jersey – he hadn't confided in his best friend the way he used to, although, Wilson had suspected that he had gone to Australia to retrieve her.

………

Wilson finds the couple sharing lunch under an umbrella shaded table at the café outside the hospital. He sits opposite them, beaming.

'Hey,' he says.

'Hey!' Lee replies, smiling, touching his arm.

'How are things?' Wilson asks.

House rolls his eyes, imagining that Wilson is refraining from squeaking excitedly like school girl: 'oh my god, you guys are back together!'

'Good,' Lee says, nodding.

Wilson notices that House allows Lee to hold his hand under the table.

'Nice tan,' Wilson says to House.

'Thanks,' he replies unenthusiastically, 'got it in Oz.'

'Have a good… holiday?'

'Yeah, we got up to all sorts of things,' Lee says, 'he even met Effie and Mick.'

'Who are Effie and Mick?' Wilson asks.

'My parents,' Lee replies nonchalantly, sipping from the straw of her milkshake.

Wilson raises a brow, 'really?'

'Yeah,' she replies, 'it was his idea.'

'Really?' Wilson repeats.

'Ok, enough,' House says, snatching Lee's milkshake and removing the plastic lid and straw so that he is able to gulp mouthfuls of the drink from the cup instead of sipping elegantly as Lee had.

After a moment of guzzling, he places the empty cup back on the table, emitting a thirst quenching 'ah,' sound and wiping the milk from his moustache with the back of his hand.

'We're back together, the world is still turning, get over it,' he says to Wilson, before standing and limping through the automatic doors of the building's entrance.

'I see he's the same old lovable House,' Wilson says, sighing.

'Yep,' Lee confirms with a smile.

………

In the afternoon, Cuddy accosts Wilson in the hall.

'What's going on with House?' she asks.

'What sort of question is that? There are all sorts of things going on with House, he's House! You're going to have to be more specific.'

'Ok, what's going on with House and Dr Emerson?'

Wilson jolts. 'What? Nothing.'

His discomfort is visible. He is a bad liar – one of the reasons he has left two failed marriages in his wake. Cuddy narrows her eyes. She knows that he knows something.

'So it's just a coincidence that she returns from Australia the same time he returns from long service leave?'

'Why not?'

'Oh. Well I swear that this morning, I saw House wink at Dr Emerson,' she says.

'Right, and that means…'

'You know what else? I also saw House with his hand in the jar of candy on the clinic reception desk. I saw him with a red lollipop in his mouth as he entered one of the consultation rooms. I was distracted by a phone call, but when I looked back minutes later, I saw Dr Emerson emerge from the same consultation room, with what I swear was the same red lollipop in her mouth.'

'What are you saying?' Wilson asks.

'I'm not saying, I'm asking… is there something going on between those two?'

Wilson turns away from her. It makes the lying easier.

'If there is, then this is the first I've heard of it…' he says, walking towards the elevator.

………

Determined to find answers, later in the afternoon Cuddy follows House when she notices him taking the elevator to the psyc ward. After conversing with the receptionist he enters Dr Emerson's office. She waits – gives them time to start doing whatever it is they do. After five minutes she approaches the room. She hears male and female laughter. She opens the door abruptly. What she sees startles her, although it is not as sordid as some of the scenarios that had run through her mind. Lee sits on one end of the sofa, House sits on the other. House is eating a sandwich - his third for the day, and has his feet resting on Lee's lap. His shoes lay discarded on the floor and Lee is massaging one of his feet. All three doctors pause – House with his sandwich half way to his mouth. Cuddy allows the door to close behind her and crosses her arms. Her eyes are wide, her mouth agape.

House is the first to speak.

'Can we help you? Are we in trouble? We're on an afternoon break, I've finished clinic duty…'

'She's… she's giving you a foot rub!' Cuddy interrupts.

'Yeah. She's pretty good, you want in?' he says, disregarding the apparent intimacy of their current arrangement.

'What… are you two… seeing each other?'

'That depends,' House replies, 'on what you mean by seeing each other, cos if I look over at her now,' he looks at Lee, 'I am seeing her, and I'm pretty sure she's seeing me. If I look at you,' he looks at Cuddy, 'I'm seeing you.'

'You know what I mean,' Cuddy says impatiently.

'Ah! You want to know if she's been rubbing any other parts of my anatomy?' House says.

Cuddy waves her hand dismissively. 'You know what, I don't want to know, just… keep it professional.'

She regards them for a moment longer before turning and exiting the room. Outside the door, she smiles to herself.

'I think we have just been outed,' House says, grinning.

Lee smiles. 'I guess so.'

He continues eating his sandwich, she continues massaging his foot.

……

In their home, he watches her from the couch. She is rushing to catch the taxi to the airport. She has numerous bags and a suitcase, and is frantically fussing with keys by the door.

He is aware that while she constantly reminds him of how much she appreciates him – I love you. I adore you. You're beautiful. You're gorgeous, he finds it difficult to say these same things to her. When she is organised, and her hand touches the doorknob, he says: 'hey,' and she stops and turns back to him, cringing as if to say 'I don't have time.'

'Thanks for sticking around,' he says quietly.

This is his way of thanking her, of saying all of the things he wishes he could say. This is his way of saying that he appreciates her.

She dumps her luggage by the door, strides back to the sofa, sinks into the cushion beside him and kisses him reassuringly.

'Thanks for letting me,' she says, smiling, her eyes glassy with tears.

'You're my best friend,' he says, 'don't tell Wilson.'

She giggles and the rude honk of the taxicab interrupts them.

'See you soon,' she says, kissing his lips in farewell.

He nods and she moves to the door, glancing over her shoulder once to smile at him.

He feels a pang of deep melancholy each time he sees her walk through that door, because each time, though he knows it is not likely, he considers the fact that she may not return. He considers the idea that while she is away from him, she may realize that she no longer cares for him, or that she never did care for him to begin with - she may suddenly be aware that she deserves much better.

A week later, at the airport, she spots him immediately standing tall above everyone else, leaning on his cane. Her smile comes uncontrollably, spreading across her face. She hugs him in greeting.

'Take me home,' she says.

Inside the front door she throws her suitcase onto the sofa. She unzips it quickly and produces a brown paper bag.

'I did get you a souvenir,' she says, 'but its way better than Maple syrup.'

He opens the bag to find a rare Led Zeppelin LP and a packet of Cuban cigars.

He is surprised. She is ecstatic.

'Oh my god,' he says, 'where did you find this?'

'Markets in Canada, can you believe it?'

'No,' he kisses her, 'thanks.'

They smoke cigars and listen to the original version of 'The Immigrant Song,' lying on the rug in the centre of the lounge area.

'I didn't know you smoke,' he says, eying her.

'I don't,' she says, winking at him and blowing smoke rings.

There is a routine, he has noticed, each time they are reunited. She has to exercise each of her five senses. She has to see him – stare into his eyes. She has to touch him – her hands move over his chest, his hands, his jaw, his lips. She has to smell and taste him – inhaling him as she kisses his neck. She has to listen – resting her head on his chest momentarily to hear the beat of his heart.

………

At work on Monday, she buys candy from the vending machine and visits his office with the intention of sharing it as if they are schoolchildren at recess. Much to her disappointment, her lunch buddy is not present. She passes the pathology lab while making her way back to her office and notices Forman and Chase though the glass walls of the room. Chase is seated on a stool, gazing intently into a microscope as Forman stands by his side, conversing with him, and intermittently flicking through a medical journal.

'Hey guys, do you have a second?' she asks, after opening the door.

The two men pause, halting their conversation and staring at Lee.

After a moment, Forman says: 'yeah, what's up?'

'Have you seen House?' she asks, entering the room.

'Not in the last hour,' Forman says, before adding: 'fortunately,' with a smirk.

'What did you need him for?' Chase asks.

She is distracted by the images on the large computer screen.

'Ah…consult for a patient,' she lies.

'What's that?' she asks, pointing to the screen.

'Biopsy of lung tissue,' Chase says, utilising his best impressive doctor's voice.

'The image is being projected from the microscope,' Forman adds.

'Oh,' she says, sounding impressed, 'can I see?'

She motions toward the microscope.

Chase raises his brow, glancing at Forman as if to say: 'I'm in.'

'Sure,' he says, wheeling the stool aside and gesturing for her to stand in front of the microscope – close to him.

She bends neatly, folding her body at a 90 degree angle and unintentionally exposing her inner thigh to Chase through the high split of her black pencil skirt. Her skirt is matched with a tight burgundy cardigan, black stockings and sharp black stilettos. The cardigan isn't terribly low cut, but the top buttons have loosened, and from his height, Chase has a perfect view of her cleavage and the black lace of her bra. He watches her perfect pale breasts and he breathes the scent of her musky perfume. Meanwhile, Forman pretends to read his journal article, lifting his eyes above the book every few seconds to glance at her ass. None of them had noticed, but House had passed the lab and had retraced his steps after seeing Lee bent over, being ogled by his two male employees. He had returned past the lab and entered through the adjoining room, hiding behind a shelf to watch the scene unfold.

'Why is it blue?' Lee asks, moving away from the microscope.

Chase and Forman immediately and obviously avert their eyes.

'Chemical dye,' Chase stammers.

'Cool,' she says, smiling before moving to the door, 'if you see House, tell him I was looking for him.'

'Whoa!' Chase exclaims as his eyes follow Lee down the hall, 'is she hot or what?'

Forman nods, grinning as he flicks the pages of the journal. 'She is fine.'

'You know what they say about redheads?' Chase says, his head still turned to the door.

'What?'

'Firecrackers in bed.'

Forman rolls his eyes.

'I bet she's really dirty,' Chase says, thinking aloud.

In the adjoining room, House furrows his brow and narrows his eyes.

'Ah man!' Forman exclaims with a hint of mild disgust.

'What!' Chase exclaims, embarrassed.

Forman shakes his head.

'I might ask her out,' Chase says, hands moving to his hips.

'Her?' Forman says.

'Yeah, why not? Same nationality…we'd have plenty to talk about. But who knows… maybe we won't be doing much talking…'

'Yeah, right.'

'You're just jealous cos I'm gonna get me some strawberry tart,' Chase says cockily.

At this moment, House appears from behind the shelf, moving swiftly. He stops in front of the two men, and deliberately presses his cane onto the toe of Chase's shoe.

'Ow!' Chase exclaims.

'Don't you two idiots have work to do?' House shouts.

'House,' Forman says, 'Dr Emerson was just looking for you…'

'I know,' House interrupts, 'and do you know why she was looking for me?' he says, glaring at Chase.

The two men stand - noses an inch apart.

'I'm guessing she was going to ask me about dinner plans,' House says, 'because at the end of the day, she's coming home with me!'

Chase's mouth drops open. Forman sniggers.

'That's right. No strawberry tart for you! Sorry to disappoint, Romeo,' House spits, before exhaling a deep breath, surprised at his outburst.

………

Forman and Chase enter the conference room, laughing to themselves.

'What?' Cameron asks, peering over her reading glasses.

'You know that psychologist – the redhead, Australian?' Chase says, sitting opposite Cameron at the table.

'Yeah,' Cameron says, eyeing Forman as he continues to chuckle quietly in the corner.

'House is doing her!'

Cameron jolts upright in her chair. She had not expected to hear this. She had expected to hear that the woman had attended school with Chase, or that she was his latest conquest.

'What? How do you know?' she demands.

'He told us,' Chase says, matter-of-factly, laughing again.

'Oh, right,' Cameron says doubtfully, imagining that somehow, they had misinterpreted one of House's sick jokes.

'No, seriously,' Chase adds, 'he heard me talking about asking her out, and he got up in my face and told me that she was going home with him tonight.'

At the conclusion of this sentence, Chase sits back in his chair, folds his arms across his chest and smiles a satisfied smile.

Cameron looks at Forman. 'Is that true?' she asks.

'Yeah,' he says with a quick nod.

'I can't believe House gets to hit that,' Chase adds.

At this moment, House enters the conference room though the door of his office.

'House also gets to hit this, literally…' he says, hitting Chase over the head with the heavy textbook in his possession, '…whenever he overhears a conversation about his private life.'

………

On Saturday night, she emerges from the bedroom wearing tight black stove-pipe jeans, a couture corset top, a silver bolero cardigan and killer heels. She has straightened her hair and is wearing her trademark red lipstick.

'Oh my god,' he mumbles lustfully as she enters the kitchen to stand beside him.

She smiles and holds her hands out at her sides, presenting herself as if she were a game show co-host in a sequined gown.

'You like?' she says.

He grunts in response.

He takes her in his arms. One hand moves immediately to her ass and the other moves over her back and shoulders.

'You're so hot,' he says, burying his face in the hair falling over her shoulder, 'mmm, and you smell fantastic.'

His teeth nip at her throat and his tongue flicks out to soothe each tiny pinch.

'Stay here with me,' he says quietly.

'I can't, I promised I'd have drinks with the girls,' she says, disentangling herself from his embrace.

He wants to say: come home soon, but he refrains.

He watches her, sulking.

She smiles, scanning his expression.

'I will,' she says.

'What?' he asks.

'Be home soon.'

She is home within the hour, settling into his lap on the recliner, holding his face to hers and nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

'The girls bored me,' she says, 'I kept thinking of coming home to you, and so I did.'

He unbuckles her shoes, discarding them on the floor, and holding and squeezing one of her tiny feet in his large warm hand.

'Let's go to bed,' he says.

………

When they are in bed, naked – just a moment before they are joined, he says something to make her pause.

'Did you take the pill every morning this week?'

'What?' she says, sitting beside him, her state of arousal diminishing rapidly.

She wonders what has prompted this inquiry. She wonders if he may be accusing her of something, though the tone of his voice had not been accusatory.

He doesn't repeat the question, because it hadn't been logically composed – it shouldn't have been stated once, let alone twice.

'Yeah,' she says reassuringly, 'don't worry, I'm extra careful. It won't happen again.'

She kisses his forehead, and he is thinking that she has misinterpreted his intent.

'We can use condoms if you want,' she offers, 'I probably have some in my purse.'

She turns to move off the bed, but his firm grip on her arm halts her.

'No,' he says definitely.

With a swift tug, she is back in position and he is kissing her insistently

………

Making love.

Nearly every night they make love – the novelty simply will not wear off.

'Lee,' he says ruefully, as she writhes above him, rocking against him, her hands splayed and moving affectionately over the bare skin of his chest. She recognises the tone of his voice. He is going to ask her a question. She thinks he has chosen a most inappropriate moment.

'Yeah?' she breathes quietly, arching back.

He releases a helpless whimper at the sensation of her shifting on him, at the sight of her, braced against him. The shapes of her, the colours. Her skin glows in the dim orange light from the bedside lamp. The beautiful angularity of her ribs below her breasts – only obvious when her body is arched in pleasure. Her hair falls over her shoulders in soft waves as her head drops back – her eyes closed contently.

'Are you happy?' he asks.

At this, her eyes flick open and her head drops forward. She offers a warm, closed lip smile.

'Deliriously.'

She lifts his hands at either side and weaves her fingers through his.

She watches his face, smiling the way she does when she knows she is about to make him come.

'Agh!' he moans simply as his hips buck to her. She feels his hands tightening their grip on hers. She feels the warm release inside her.

Still smiling, she lays down – her chest against his, her head beside him on the pillow. His lips touch her ear and in this moment he wants to say, please don't ever leave me.

Thanks to those of you who are still faithfully reading (and reviewing). I can't tell you how much I appreciate your comments, and your encouragement to continue on with this LONG fic :)