No television, no radio, no piano, no nothing. It was so quiet he could hear his watch tick. So quiet he could hear the dust settle.
House was on his sofa, sipping a glass of scotch, staring at nothing. She was on her way over, probably stuck in that outer circle of hell called New Jersey traffic. Finally, after five of the longest days of his life. All he could do now was wait for the knock at his door.
Another sip of scotch to calm his nerves after an endless, maddening day of enduring Wilson's relentless teasing, obnoxious patients, and Cameron's continued ice queen act. Fortunately she'd kept her yap shut and did what she was told, he could giver her points for that. At the very least it showed she was taking his threat of tossing her to the curb seriously. He meant it and she knew it. He smiled at the thought. The power to hire and fire was such a wonderful thing.
It was nearly six. She was probably trapped behind a bus, pounding on the steering wheel and screaming at the traffic to move.
All this waiting, waiting and more waiting. Only Cuddy could drive him this crazy. Another smile. The thought of her and her royal blue eyes and long silky hair was the only thing keeping him from hurling the glass against the wall.
Knock knock.
His head snapped around to the door. Heart racing, he got up and limped over to it, hoping he wouldn't appear like a sweaty, nervous teenager waiting for his prom date.
He opened the door. Cuddy stood there with a bottle of champagne and a dazzling smile.
"Get in here," House growled, grabbing her and practically yanking her out of her shoes. Before the door was even closed he had her locked in as deep and passionate a kiss a she could ever hope for or remember. Cuddy struggled to hold onto the champagne. After what seemed like hours they had to come up for air.
"Don't you ever leave me like that again," House said between gasps for oxygen.
"Hello to you too." Cuddy felt lightheaded and took a few moments to get her bearings straight.
"Welcome back, Lisa." For a brief moment he wished he could pick her up and swing her around the room. Glancing at the bottle, he asked, "Whatcha got there?"
"Dom Perignon." Cuddy beamed and handed the bottle over.
"Nice," House said, the approval in his voice was off the charts. "Souvenir from a wedding, maybe?"
"We drank them all. This is just for us."
"You spoil me, Dr. Cuddy. Let's crack this baby open."
In the kitchen, House rummaged for a corkscrew while Cuddy got out two fresh glasses. There weren't any champagne flutes, but the one hundred fifty dollar drink would still taste the same whether it was served in crystal or a plastic cup.
Thankfully the bottle didn't explode all over the place, and soon House was clinking his glass to hers.
"Here's to leaving Des Plains far, far behind," he said thickly, then drained half the glass and let the bubbles tickle his nose.
His eyes moved all over Cuddy. "Take off your coat and stay a while."
"I have something to show you. It's the other reason I brought the champagne," his lover said, frowning a bit, almost like she was getting ready to confess a crime.
"Uh-oh." House frowned right along with her. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"
"It's no huge thing," Cuddy reassured him. "Well...I...just see for yourself."
The Dean of Medicine dug into her shoulderbag and pulled out the shredded remains of the Jack Daniels shirt.
"What the hell...," House gasped, nearly dropping his glass. "Were you attacked by a werewolf?"
"My uncle's washing machine ate it," she sighed.
"What?"
"They said I was free to do my laundry there," she explained, peeling off her coat and throwing it on the back of a chair. "I figured what the hell, one less chore to worry about when I get home. Well, that damn washing machine is from the Carter administration. The shirt got caught on the agitator and...it didn't have a prayer."
Staring at the ragged ribbons of his shirt, House said, "Well, Jack, at least your whiskey is good."
"I can't believe it," Cuddy said with a short laugh. "There was a full load of laundry in that machine and it chose that shirt for a snack."
House raised his glass. "To the gods of laundry. May this sacrifice appease them for a while." He finished his drink, took one last look at the shirt, and unceremoniously tossed it in the garbage can.
"I'm sorry, Greg," she scowled.
"There's bound to be another Jack Daniels shirt somewhere in the world," the diagnostician remarked as he limped his way back over to his lover and slipped his free arm around her back. "In the meantime I'll just have to find you a loaner."
Cuddy returned his embrace. "I really feel terrible about it," she said, nibbling at his neck. "What can I do to make up to you?"
"Hmm...I can think of a few things," he grinned. "Just remember I've been waiting five days for this. I hope you're ready."
"You forgot one thing, Greg."
"What is that?"
She looked up, looked straight into his eyes. "I've been waiting five days, too. Consider yourself warned."
