Summary, disclaimer, etc. in chapter 1.

Thanks for the reviews, guys. I'm happy to know you're willing to go along for the ride – makes the writing more fun. Cheers!

Content Warning: Much sexual innuendo in this chapter. (More than usual.)

Impulse Control

August 1995

"I thought you hated your relatives," House whined, squirming uncomfortably.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Stacy whispered harshly, "I liked this aunt." She smacked him as best she could without attracting more attention. "Now shut up, people are starting to stare."

House pulled a face and slumped in the pew. His suit was so itchy. His tie was on too tight. The room smelled like old people and feet. Some idiot with badly groomed ear hair was giving a rambling, incoherent eulogy.

"Do we have to go to the burial?" House whispered. "I'm hungry."

Stacy rummaged through her purse and shoved half a pack of mint lifesavers into his hand. "Be quiet!" she hissed.

House sullenly popped two into his mouth and sat still for a grueling five minutes before he excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Funerals are a waste of life, he thought as he washed his hands. He and Stacy could make much better use of this time. He smirked to himself. Suddenly he knew exactly how to get out of going to the burial.

He waited until he heard the organ blast out marching music for the pall bearers before snuck up behind Stacy, who had just started down a side aisle toward the door, and pulled her to him.

Judging by her reaction, she felt every inch of what he wanted her to feel.

"Greg, you're horrible!" she whispered springing from his grasp.

"I got bored," he said. "I'm only human."

She narrowed her eyes and crowded him against a column, trying to keep their exchange from her relatives. "I can't believe you!" she hissed.

House ignored her, brushing her cheek lightly. "We can sneak out," he said. "Your aunt would've wanted you to be happy, right? What better way to honor the life she lived than to do something life affirming?"

"Just when I think you can't get any more morally reprehensible, you do something like this," Stacy said.

But she didn't look disgusted. Not at all. In fact…

"C'mon," House whispered into her ear. "I've always wanted to do it in a rental car."

"I can't take you anywhere," she said, but she was smiling wickedly now. "Give me ten minutes to let them know I'm leaving."

"Five," House said, "or I go find some bushes."

"You do that and there'll be no mile high clubbing tonight," she said. "You'll have to wait until next time to scratch Delta off your list."

"You're pure evil," House said.

The smoldering look she gave him made him squirm.

"Ten minutes," he conceded. She kept staring at him like that… "Go!" he hissed. "Hurry!"

She grinned evilly and sauntered off, putting on a show for him.

House leaned against the column they'd been half-concealed by and loosened his tie.

Of all the things he was going to go to hell for, this one was so worth it.