Chapter 51
House answered back to the phone, "SHE…" House pointed to Romoly who narrowed her eyes at him. "…is acting just like a…a…a MONSTER! All she wants me to do is cook…and clean…and do the laundry. And there's no gratitude; she just sits on her perfect, scrumptious little ass and orders me around. I can't take that kind of pressure. I think she should move out."
Wilson grinned; he couldn't believe the wonderful luck he was having. And it isn't even my birthday, he thought. "Well, it is your apartment. Perhaps you really should send her packing." Wilson paused. "You know, she really should stay with me."
And this calmed House immediately; that was the LAST thing he wanted because he knew Wilson would simply try to seduce her and, in her weakened condition, she'd fall for it. Women were suckers for men like Wilson.
House narrowed his eyes at the phone and turned away from Romoly, who'd been watching the entire exchange with growing curiosity. "Absolutely not. You're the reason we're in this situation in the first place."
"Hardly. You slept with Diana."
House lowered his voice. "But YOU asked her out."
"And YOU told her, the morning after of all times, that what you did didn't mean anything to you. You don't think she shouldn't have been hurt? I was nice to her; you treated her like garbage. And I can only assume that's when you fell in love with her. You wouldn't have gone to so much trouble merely to assuage your curiosity or even to prove a point." Wilson paused. He was going to advocate for Romoly as much as he could. "And do you REALLY think that by manipulating her…or whatever you're trying to do…is going to make her come over to your side? She's a very smart woman and she'll see right through you. How did she react to you in an apron?"
"But SHE started it!" House's voice raised several pitches so Romoly could catch what he was saying.
"House, Romoly doesn't do anything she doesn't need to; everything has a valid reason. When you get to the root of why you THINK she did what she did…and I'm still not convinced she was responsible for that outburst in Victoria's Secret…she just doesn't seem capable of it…then you'll have the advantage. Just manipulating for the sake of manipulating won't get you anywhere. When you discover this you'll be a very smart man indeed."
House skirted the question and raised his voice even more for good measure. "Ok, ok, Mom. I'll make it work. I'll take her back…AGAIN. But you know that she's just going to keep demanding and harping and bringing me down. My delicate sensibilities can't handle much more of this."
"House…" Wilson said with a warning in his tone.
"Goodbye Mother." CLICK. He grinned, sighed dramatically then turned around to find that Romoly has pulled herself into her wheelchair and was rolling down the hall. Intrigued, since he figured it was his inalienable right to know everything about everyone, he hung up the phone and followed her down the hall to his bedroom, where her clothes were kept. "Just where do you think YOU'RE going?"
"I'm moving back to my apartment." She said over her shoulder as she rolled to the dresser to pull articles out. "I can't live with a man who whines, complains…and wears an apron. I need a REAL man." She smirked as she kept her back to him.
He huffed and marched-limped to stand beside her, never once getting out of character with the "housewife" bit. "Now listen here. I will NOT allow this to happen and you aren't leaving."
Romoly looked up. "And what can YOU, a lowly MAN, do about it? How are YOU going to stop me?"
House suddenly didn't know what came over him. Perhaps it was her assertiveness; perhaps it was her independence…or perhaps it was his growing need for her, one that seemed to consume him every day. Whatever it was, it was powerful enough to reach over and grab her face, bringing her mouth to his. She fought him, straining against his shoulders but his grip was too much. He overwhelmed her as he stuck his tongue in her mouth, exploring, mapping the terrain and tasting the beer and her desire for him on her tongue.
And so help her, she wanted him. That last week had been so difficult, with him in the other room…on a bed...a really BIG bed as she remembered. And it was during these times it didn't matter that he broke her heart when he slept with Diana; it didn't matter that he was a selfish bastard with no regard for even himself. Romoly simply knew she wanted him.
But she couldn't give in just yet. That would mean he'd win. She couldn't allow that.
Romoly finally pushed him away, with a loud SMACK of lip suction, and wheeled backwards to get a better look at him, the effect of the kiss just as evident on him as it had been to her. She regained herself and narrowed her eyes. "Men. They think that all we need is a little pickle-tickle and everything will be just fine in the world. It's not ok and I will not stand for anymore."
That was not what House wanted; he wanted her there, with him. What he didn't know was that she had no intention of leaving; she was simply going to tighten the reins around him, making it such that he was under her control. She was Geppetto; he was Pinocchio…before he came to life and went crazy, of course. House just didn't know it yet.
Romoly threw open drawers and pulled out clothes which were immediately taken from her and put back in the drawers by House. "You aren't going anywhere. Besides, what would your NURSE say if she found you gone tomorrow after I leave for work? She'll be most disappointed. Irene I think her name is, right? Tall, blonde, killer set of knockers. You didn't tell me she likes to water ski; I'd love to see that body in a string bikini." Romoly stopped in mid-air while still holding a small stack of t-shirts. Slowly setting them on her lap, she turned the wheelchair to face him, only to find him standing about three feet away with his arms crossed, his foot tapping and his eyebrow raised. Damn it; how'd he know that? He even knows her name and her favorite hobby. How DOES he do that?
"Wondering how I know? You can't fool me; it's exactly what I would've done. That's very good young lady; I'm impressed. But you can't hide anything from me. You aren't going anywhere and you're keeping the nurse." House thumped his cane a couple of times as he walked towards the doorway leading to the hallway. He suddenly stopped and turned to Romoly, who'd followed his retreating form with her eyes. "The New American Gladiators starts in 15 minutes; wheel your pretty little ass out there and watch it with me." He eyed her closely then limped out of the room.
She stared, shocked, at his retreating form. That wasn't what she expected and she couldn't believe he knew. She couldn't help but smile though; despite what he said, she was very impressed with him. Now she knew she'd have to step up her efforts…and a plan began to form to do just that...
HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…HOUSEMD…
The rest of the afternoon was fairly quiet, with the crippled duo watching television. After dinner House noodled around on the piano, not really paying attention to the world around him as he was lost in thought. He was centered on Romoly and what made her tick; it was clear she'd gone through a lot with Clif but before that? He knew nothing. And she knew nothing about him. Ending the concerto he was mindlessly, but flawlessly, playing, he pushed away from the piano and looked down the hallway. Romoly had gone to his bedroom to spread out and take a nap. He was suddenly in the mood for "20 Questions".
THA-THUMP, THA-THUMP. His foot/cane falls echoed through the strangely quiet apartment as he went to the bedroom, finding the door ajar. Peeking inside, he found Romoly sitting up against the headboard, writing in what looked to be another black-and-white composition notebook. She looked intent on what she was writing…
…and the natural nosiness that followed House everywhere suddenly began whispering to him, the sound of which was music to House's ears: You've gotta get a hold of that book; you have to know what's in it.
You're absolutely right…
House, sucking in a silent breath, pushed open the door suddenly and practically shouted, "Are you awake?"
Romoly screamed and jumped, in only the manner a deliberating person would have on their task at hand. Quickly snapping the book shut, she tucked it under the pillow behind her. "I am now. What do you want?"
I want to read that book… Pretending not to have noticed the book, House came further into the bedroom and, sitting down on the bed in a manner similar to a father would in the event of lecturing their child on the impropriety of whatever they did wrong, House shrugged. "You never finished that story about Clif and his fourth novel. I want to know what that novel was about."
Not to mention that novel you've got hidden behind you…
