Title: Five Ways Out of Hell
Author: sy dedalus
Rating: T
Pairing: House/broken heart
Warnings: Drinking, sex with strangers, general Housian masochism
Summary: House's five ways out of hell following "Need to Know." Couldn't keep my paws off this one.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
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Warning: Illicit drug use on House's part in this chapter, but nothing the show hasn't already suggested. Also, a good deal of sexual innuendo, but everything should be within the T rating.
2: Cheap Sex
She didn't ask about the leg, except to admire his cane while he undressed, and he didn't ask about the cocaine, except to decline when she offered him a line from the bathroom.
She demanded rough sex and he didn't decline, eager to nip and bite and pound, pleased to hear her scream with pleasure, pleased to hear himself screaming.
She talked dirty to him and he talked dirty back, breathing all the harsh, forbidden words he knew into her ear.
She demanded two rounds and he happily obliged. He was no slouch. Not with tequila in him.
But when the combined forces of tequila, Vicodin, age, being out of practice, and the even greater demand Stacy had had the night before put him to sleep after the second romp, she slapped him awake.
"You gotta go if you're gonna sleep."
He grunted and sat up.
She made advances to his cane while he dressed. He asked her to have the decency to Saran wrap herself first. He had some idea where she'd been.
She was high, titling and whirling around the room, but she took affront. She called him a cripple, said he was so small she hadn't even felt it, said she'd been faking the whole time. She suggested he get some Viagra before he tried doing this again. Limp men didn't do it for her. Neither did men with limps.
He told her she was as loose and dry as a five dollar whore, and that the condom did more for him than she did.
She threw his cane at him and screamed, "Get out!"
He made a choice remark about her personal hygiene and left gladly, tripping down the stairs as the mean side of tequila kicked into overdrive.
He vomited next to a dumpster in the alley, took a moment to catch his breath, and sat down on the fire escape. Pulling the joint Wilson hadn't confiscated out of his pocket and pairing it with the lighter he'd stolen from her while she was trying to hump his cane, he lit up.
"That was wonderful, Greg," she purred, caressing his chest. "You've still got it."
He smirked, savoring the comedown, the tangled sheets, the sweat cooling on his body. Nothing would ever top sex with Stacy.
"When did you get the new bike?"
"A few months ago," he replied. He smirked again. "Got Wilson to lend me the cash."
Stacy laughed that playful southern laugh of hers and lay down next to him, close but not too close.
"I like what you've done with the place," she said, glancing around carelessly. "It's very you."
"You mean it's disorganized and chaotic?"
She nudged him. "Still can't take a compliment."
"Still think I care about interior decorating."
Stacy mock-glared at him just long enough to end the round of banter. She turned on to her left side and put her face in the pillow, inhaling deeply.
"God, I've missed this smell," she said.
House had a tart reply ready when he saw the look on her face. She was getting serious again. He needed another ten minutes at least but if she wanted to get a head start, who was he to argue…
"Have you?" he asked.
"I have," she said, voice dropping to a sultry register.
"What else have you missed?" he asked, his eyes gleaming too. He knew the subtext of this conversation by heart. Maybe he only needed five minutes.
She picked up his left hand. "I've missed this." She kissed it.
She ran her hand along his chest and bent down to kiss it too. "And this."
She moved up to caress his scratchy neck. "I remember this being smoother," she said, kissing it anyway.
Her hand traveled south, eyes shining. "And this is even better than I remembered it."
Starting to feel the weather, House took one more hit and put the rest of the joint back in his pocket. He sat for a moment, feeling the drug relax him, and closed his eyes. He was so close to feeling good. Almost normal. Almost. If he just sat for a while…
Stacy drifted back in to his head and he snapped his eyes open quickly.
Reaching for his cell phone, he stood and walked around to the front of the building while he dialed a cab company. Blame it on his memory, he did recall what she had mumbled through his lips to the driver earlier. Five minutes they said.
He put his cell phone away in favor of his Vicodin, popping one into his mouth and sucking on it. He swayed slightly, head spinning, a silly grin plastered on his face. Wilson had invested in some good weed.
When the cab arrived, he stuffed himself in the back seat without falling over and giggled stupidly before he sobered up and directed the driver to the nearest all-nite pancake house.
He couldn't go home right now. The bed would still smell like her.