CHAPTER NINE

House stood on her front porch staring at the doorbell. He had told Wilson a lie that involved his motorcycle, a woman clad in all leather and the hint of something illegal until Wilson stopped asking. He might have been able to use the ladies man's help tonight, but he didn't want Wilson to know about the date, not yet.

He pushed the bell and waited. He could feel the handle of his cane slick with his sweat, shifting around in his hand. He tightened his grip. The last thing he wanted was for her to open the door to him bending down to pick the damned thing up.

Cuddy jumped at the sound of the doorbell. It was a sound she'd been waiting for at least twenty minutes before he was supposed to show up, and for the twenty minutes that had passed since. She checked herself in the mirror one last time. Her hair was up in a French twist. She'd thought about wearing it down, but it looked better up with this dress, a slinky red jersey dress that hugged her in all the right spots, and showed just a peek of her leopard bra if she bent over too far.

Was it too much? Maybe he would get the wrong idea. She tugged at the deep V-neck trying to hide just a little more skin. The bell rang again.

"Coming." She called out, grabbing her coat and purse as she hurried to the door.

"What took so long?" House asked, frowning. She was already in her coat, hiding any hit of the dress beneath it. For a split second he imagined she wasn't wearing anything under it, but that Cuddy was gone under a pile of hospital paperwork and 'responsibility', but there was a time when she would have done something like that. Those had been good times.

"You're late." She smiled and walked past him. She was more nervous than she wanted to be, and the effects of that glass of wine she had half an hour ago had begun to fade long ago.

"Which is why I expected you to be ready." He leaned around her and opened the car door. His father might have been an ass, but he had taught him manners.

There were a million snarky things she could have said, but nerves got in the way. Instead of responding she simply folded herself into the red sports car and jumped slightly as he slammed the door.

"I thought I told you to get rid of this thing?" She looked with appreciation at the perfectly restored '65 Corvette that had been a gift from an unsavory patient. It was beautiful, and even she would have found it hard to part with, but she just worried that the mob might come collecting someday, and she didn't think House could refuse their offer when they did.

"And you thought I would?" House got behind the wheel and turned the key with a flourish.

"No." She was glad he didn't. It really was a nice ride. "We should go. We're already twenty minutes late."

"Whatever you say boss." House sped off.

They rode in a fairly awkward silence. House had the radio on, but it was tuned to nothing in particular and the song that they were both ignoring was something neither was familiar with anyway. Cuddy gazed out the window as House focused on the road.

House began to hum to the next song, some Top 40 hit that was played about twenty times a day on the radio and MTV. He didn't bother learning the words, knowing the song would be gone in a week, but it had a passable beat, and it gave him something to do other than worry about how bad his breath might smell.

After a long and silent eternity they found themselves sitting at a small round table in the corner of a draped, candlelit restaurant, staring at one another.

Cuddy picked up her glass of Seven and Seven and took a long slow sip. Her eyes tilted up through the bit of hair that draped across her brow and she watched him. He looked nice tonight. He was wearing black pants and a sport jacket, which, that alone showed how serious he was about this date. He was also wearing her favorite shirt. He hadn't worn it in a while and she's assumed he got rid of it for some reason, but the rich, cobalt blue fabric matched his eyes almost perfectly.

"I really like that shirt on you." She smiled awkwardly. She hadn't thought this would be so hard, or that she'd be this nervous.

"You look nice too." He was distracted. He wanted the night to be special, and like most people who try too hard, he was losing focus of the moment he was in as his mind plotted out the moments to come. "Excuse me." He pulled himself up and hobbled away.

Cuddy watched him leave, wondering what she'd said. A minute later she summoned the waiter over and ordered another drink. She got one for House too. His glass was looking pretty empty.

The restaurant wasn't too crowded. It was Wednesday, a strange night for a date, but both House and Cuddy seemed to want to get it over with before either of them could change their minds. She heard the blurred sound of voices, the sound of half a dozen secret conversations all melding into one. The chink of glasses and silver hitting china gave a musical lilt to the atmosphere.

It really was a nice restaurant. One of those places she'd always meant to get around to, but never had the right opportunity. She was secretly pleased that House was the one she finally came with. She was really hoping to see a side of him she hadn't seen before…at least not in a long time.

Their earlier fight weighed on her mind. She hadn't meant to say those things to him, even if she did believe them. He was dealing with a pain she could not comprehend. Who was she to judge how he tried to lessen it?

But he wasn't lessening it. That was what drove her crazy. If anything, withdrawing himself from everything only added to his pain, almost like he was trying to punish himself more than fate had already punished him. But for what? What had he done that was so horrible that he felt he had to live this way? She wished she could ask him. If she could only look him in the eye and ask him why he chose to be so unhappy.

"I'm back," he said pointlessly. It was pretty obvious he was back when he dropped down into his seat, drained the remainder of his old drink and started in on the new one Cuddy had ordered for him. "Thanks. That was very thoughtful."

"I thought you'd need it." She sighed.

"Well, since I'm trapped with you for the evening, you thought right."

She glared at him, but didn't say anything. "Where'd you go?"

"Had to make a call, tell the hooker I'd be running late." He was forcing the snark a little too hard. He could feel it and tried to pull it back. "I had to use the bathroom."

"I liked your first excuse better. It was more creative." She didn't believe either story, even though the bathroom one was quite plausible.

"I'll keep that in mind."

The silence fell upon them again like a blanket heavy from the rain. Cuddy swirled her drink in her hand, watching the melting ice cubes dance around.

"Any news about Carly?" Cuddy was fishing for something to talk about.

"We're not talking about work." House put his metaphorical foot down. They talked about work all day at work. This was their time. Time to get to know each other without work hanging over their heads.

"Then what do you want to talk about?" She felt the date slipping away fast. She was trying hard to catch it, but every time she got just a small piece of it, House yanked it away again.

"Did you catch the last episode of Grey's Anatomy?"

"No."

"Callie is totally getting it on with that bitch Hahn. Hmmm, I wonder if 13 watches…"

"If we're not talking about work we're not talking about your team." Especially Hadley.

"Can we talk about your underwear? I noticed, when you took your coat off, you're wearing your leopard bra. I've heard that women only wear that kind of thing when they expect someone to see it."

"And you saw it." She cut him off from that line of thinking quickly. She had no intention of sleeping with him tonight. Not that that meant anything. She'd had no intention of sleeping with him the night of that convention either.

"I plan on finding out if you're wearing a matching thong." He leaned back, enjoying the old banter that was familiar between them.

"I am. Mystery solved." She took a sip of her drink, realized it was the last sip and looked at her date. He raised his hand to wave over the waiter and ordered another round.

"Food's here." House unfolded his napkin and placed it in his lap without looking. His eyes were fixed on his date.

The chef came out and bowed to them before presenting Cuddy with a plate of Fettuccini Alfredo. "I heard it is your favorite," he said with a bow.

Cuddy had to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling too brightly. "This wasn't on the menu."

The chef looked at House before he spoke. "It was a special request made on your behalf by a very special man."

For a moment she thought she was going to cry. It was such a sweet gesture. "Thank you. It looks lovely."

"As do you," the Chef excused himself with another bow and went back to the kitchen and to his work.

"How did you do this?" She asked, rudely diving into her fresh, specially made fettuccini.

"I'm just that good," he said, digging into his own penne all'aribbiata.

Cuddy watched him for a moment, the small smile that she sometimes got when he did something particularly touching lit up her face. Men had done things like this for her before. She'd dated some pretty influential, powerful men, all of whom tried to impress her with surprise dinners in Paris or tickets to sold-out plays or whatever they could do to get in her pants. Yet somehow all those private jets and VIP treatments paled in comparison to this one simple dish of pasta.

House felt her eyes on him, burning into the top of his head where the hair had decided to boycott his head and refused to grow. "What?" He looked up and made a face at her.

"It's delicious." She realized she was quite moony eyed and quickly looked down at her plate.

"It aught to be." He wasn't going to tell her, but he'd had to pull quite a big string to get that bowl of pasta, and if she didn't eat the whole thing he was going to make her take it home in a doggy bag and was going to make sure she finished every last noodle.

"How's yours?" She wanted to keep a conversation going, and though this was weak conversation material, it was better than the silence.

"It'd be better if you'd let me eat it while it's hot." He wanted to talk to her, but he was also trying to avoid talking to her. He was a very conflicted man, and she looked so hot in that dress, and his eyes kept dropping to her cleavage as his mind kept wandering to the last time he'd held those milky white breasts in his masterful hands.

House had never been able to think clearly around beautiful women. His libido was the only thing that could match his massive genius and he liked to give it plenty of room to breath.

"Please, don't let me stop you."

Again they fell silent. This time they had the comfort of good food to fill the awkwardness. They took turns looking up at one another when the other was focused on their plate. Each time they tried fruitlessly to formulate something witty to say. Several minutes passed before either one of them came up with something.

"Another drink?" House asked, looking at her melted ice cubes.

"Yes, thank you." Cuddy nodded politely.

It was painfully clear that they were both trying to avoid talking about anything of any importance. Neither of them wanted to risk a fight in the middle of a restaurant a third full of strangers. Instead they talked about weather, and sports and House's car. Nothing worth remembering by the end of the night.

House finally paid the bill and escorted her to the car. "We can't go on like this," he said getting in the drivers seat.

"Agreed," but she was going to wait to hear his thoughts before she said more.

"The kiss screwed things up between us and I can only see one way to resolve this." He started the engine.

"Yes?" She had spend the past couple weeks trying to think of a way to resolve this, so if he had any ideas, she was more than willing to hear them.

"We're just going to have to cut the bullshit and screw." He pulled away from the curb quickly, sending her head back against the headrest. That and his words left her feeling unsettled.

"I don't have sex on the first date." She had made up her mind before the date even started.

"Since when?" He was so shocked he nearly swerved into the other lane as his head snapped over to look at her. He'd never seen a bold faced liar up close before.

"Since right now."

"You're making a big mistake." He kept trying. She was buzzed, possibly drunk, and it was only a matter of time before he wore down her resolve.

"Sleeping with you tonight would be a big mistake." She wanted to sleep with him, to feel his strong hands caressing her naked flesh, to feel the weight of his long, lean torso pressed down on hers, to feel him pulsating inside of her, filling the emptiness.

"Look. You like sex, I like sex. You're good at it, I'm great at it. I don't see the problem." He turned onto State Street. It was late and the streets were empty. Cuddy stared out the window, watching the streetlamps flash by one by one, counting them to keep her mind clear of the impure thoughts racing through it.

She wanted him. She wanted him so bad she could almost feel him touching her, feel his hand slipping up her leg, pulling her thighs apart as his long fingers searched for paradise… "House!" She pushed his hand away just as the tip of his index finger brushed against the silk of her leopard panties.

"Damn!" House put his hand back on the steering wheel and waited for her to become distracted again. "Why won't you have sex with me woman?"

"I can't…not tonight." She had promised herself.

"It's not that time of month." He knew because he tracked it. He tracked it so he'd know when to avoid her more than he usually avoided her at work.

"How…never mind." It was pointless to ask. "Sleeping together isn't going to solve whatever problems we have. It will only make things worse." She thought of last time.

"You don't know that. It could solve everything." He didn't really care at the moment if it solved things or made them worse. He just wanted to get laid.

He could smell her; that overtly feminine smell of a woman in heat. It was the smell of pheromones, and there was a simple, scientific explanation for it and his reaction to it, but not enough blood was flowing to his brain for him to recall what that was.

He wanted to pull the car over and tear her clothes off. He wanted to ravage her like a savage. He wanted it dirty and hot and sweaty and primal.

He pulled the car over.

"What are you doing?" Cuddy looked around. They were now parked beside a small municipal park. It was deserted at this time of night and she had a bad feeling her willpower was about to betray her.

"What I should have done years ago." He grabbed her face in his hands and pulled her toward him. He kissed her again. It was sloppy and wet, the kiss of two horny drunks, hungry for the taste of one another, desperate for a physical connection.

She kissed back, her mouth sucking on his, her tongue slipping its way deep inside his mouth. He tasted of whiskey and onions, but she didn't mind. It was the taste beyond that, the taste of him that she craved.

House slipped his hand between the deep V of her dress. It was a soft, malleable material and gave easily. He hoped he wasn't imagining her moan as his fingers slipped beneath that sexy leopard bra and slipped over her hardened nipple.

Cuddy shut her eyes, not wanting to distract from the feeling of his touch. She was quite aware of the way her body was betraying her by responding to him even though she'd sworn not to. She moaned softly in the dim light of the streetlamp, her mouth still pressed against his, her moan sending a ripple down his spine.

House's free hand, the one not caressing her firm, pert breast, slipped behind her head and pulled at her perfect chignon. With the ability of a man still nimble despite the alcohol raging through him, pulled the pins out of her hair and let it fall. He regretted it as it broke the spell.

Cuddy pulled away. "I can't do this. Not tonight." She was almost crying.

"Why?" He looked hurt. It was more than just wounded pride, or a disappointed libido. Her rejection hit him at his core.

"I don't want another one night stand." She had to stand up for her own fragile heart.

"It doesn't have to be one night." He tried to smile, lighten the mood, but he knew it was pointless.

"No. But it still wouldn't be enough." She looked out the window as her hands straightened out her dress. "I need more than this House. Look at us? Two highly accomplished adults, and we're making out in a Corvette on the side of the road."

"So?" House had been quite enjoying making out in a Corvette on the side of the road.

"So? I want more. I want a relationship. I want to know you're here for more than just sex. I need someone who is willing to share their life with me." She looked at him hopefully. If ever there was a time for him to step up, this was it.

House felt his chest tighten. He, too, knew that this was the moment. She was asking him if he was ready for a relationship. She was practically begging him to say yes. All he had to do was say he wanted to be with her, that he loved her.

Both of those things were true. He did love her. He'd been fooling himself into thinking he only wanted her, but he loved her. He needed her. And he wanted to be with her. He wanted to wake up beside her, and comfort her when she was down, and share her joys with her. But he didn't know how to do those things. He just didn't know how.

"You deserve those things Cuddy." He turned the key in the ignition and pulled back out onto the road.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She shook her head, thinking, somehow, that the words might make sense if she gave them a little jolt. They didn't.

House remained silent, watching the road intently.

"House?" She pleaded. "Talk to me."

"And say what? That I can't give you what you want? That you should get over me and move on? Or do you want me to lie and whisper sweet nothings into your ear so we can spend the night getting sweaty and pretending there's a future for us with the big U and an exclamation point?"

"Stop the car." He stopped the car and locked the door as soon as he realized her intentions. "Let me out!" She pushed the button to unlock the door but he pushed his immediately after, locking it again. They repeated this several times before she turned to him. "Let me out."

"We're nowhere near your house." He might be angry, he might be bitterly disappointed, but he wasn't going to let her go wondering around Princeton in the middle of the night slightly buzzed and extremely pissed off.

"I don't care House. Let me go."

Those final three words hit him. They hit him hard. "I can't," he whispered. He meant it in a much bigger way than simply letting her out of the car, but she took advantage of that moment of realization, a moment he hadn't shared with her and that she was unaware of, and got out of the car.

She slammed the door hard and pulled out her mobile. "I'm calling a cab House. You can go now." She didn't mean those words in the bigger sense that he'd meant his.

House pulled away, but he didn't go far. He stopped just out of view and waited for her cab to arrive. He followed it to her house and parked across the street, watching her pay the driver and head into her home, alone.

Cuddy was in tears before she got her coat off. She collapsed, coat still on one arm, onto the floor and sobbed.

House went home to his small, empty apartment and downed a bottle of bourbon and half a bottle of Vicodin.