CHAPTER THIRTY

House woke up early the next morning. A sliver of sunlight was peeking through the closed curtains and reflecting off the mirror, right into his eyes. He grumbled a bit about the poor design as he carefully removed her arm from his chest. Cuddy wasn't there. For a split second he thought she'd left him in the night, but then he heard something that told him she wasn't far off.

The delicate sound of her voice grew louder when he opened the door. He cocked his head for a moment, listening; then smirked. She was singing, not terribly, but she was no American Idol. He crept down the hallway silently. Dusty Springfield was backing her up on the radio and the smell of sizzling bacon caught his nostrils.

House leaned in the kitchen doorway, watching. She was wearing his tee shirt, and nothing else. He figured that out when she reached up to get a pair of dishes out of an overhead cabinet. She hadn't noticed him yet and was still singing.

"Believe me, believe me, I can't help but love you. But believe me, I'll never tie you downnnnnnnn." She held the last note, trying to challenge Dusty to break it first.

"That's negotiable, I hope." House was leaning, arms crossed, waiting for her to recognize him.

Cuddy spun around and jumped. "I didn't see you there."

"Obviously." House picked up his cane and hobbled toward her. He reached over and grabbed a strip of bacon off the stove.

"Careful, they're hot."

House burned his tongue. He tried to act tough, but he scrambled to the sink for a glass of water. "No shit!"

Cuddy bit her lip. They were even on the embarrassment scale. "If you can wait a couple more minutes, I'll make you a plate."

House poured out two glasses of milk and brought them to the table. Then he sat down and waited a couple more minutes. Cuddy finished cooking in silence. She finally sat down and put a plate down in front of him.

House sniffed it gratefully. "Nothing satisfies a man like a good, hearty breakfast…except a good, hearty fu…"

"HOUSE!"

"CUDDY!" He imitated her with the expertise of someone who has had great practice at it.

They went back to eating their eggs. Each one of them staring at the other, challengingly.

"Wanna go fishing after breakfast?" House talked through a mouth full of egg.

"You fish?" She would pay money to see that.

"I do if you do."

A couple hours later they were in a small wooden boat in the middle of the lake, bickering.

"We're never going to catch anything if you don't stop talking." House wiggled his pole to catch some wondering fish's attention.

She reeled her line in and pulled a pile of jetsam off the hook. "They really need to dredge the lake and clean some of this out." She made a face as she shook an old, drenched sock out of her hand.

"I'm not having that for dinner." House picked it up with the tips of his fingers and tossed it back into the lake.

"Don't!" Cuddy protested. She sighed when it was clearly too late.

"Oh, did you want to keep it?" House made a snotty face back at her. He was losing patience.

"I was going to throw it out."

"I just did."

"I was going to throw it in the trash. Not back into the lake."

"The trash will just end up back in the lake eventually. I was cutting out the middle man."

Cuddy wrapped her hook around her pole and placed the whole thing along the bottom of the boat.

"You're going to make me do all the work?" House shot her an evil look as he remembered the night before. "Typical."

"You're a grown man House. I'm not MAKING you do anything." She sat and watched him. He was still shaking his fishing pole around, hoping for a bite.

"You want to eat don't you?" House was in martyr mode, and had no interest in getting out of it.

"Yes."

"Then pick up that pole and catch something." House had every intention of NOT sharing whatever he caught with her. Instead he would sit and eat it right in front of her, making a point of how tasty each and every bite was.

Cuddy, however, had no intention of spending another hour not catching anything but old socks and soggy newspapers. "OR….we could go back to the cabin and have sex."

House's face lit up, and then darkened. "You're not going to fool me again." He threw out his line again after having replaced his bait.

"You're turning down sex?" Cuddy was confused.

"I'm turning down sex with you." He wanted it to be clear. It wasn't sex he objected to. It was being used that he didn't want to happen again.

"Really?" Cuddy cocked her head to one side challengingly. "It's so hot out here," she tried a new tactic, pulling her old college sweatshirt up over her head. The tank she was wearing was thin and House could just see the dark pigment of her nipples, not that he was looking.

House cleared his throat quietly. "It is. Maybe you should take more off." House tried to seem disinterested, focusing deeply on the end of his fishing line, but his eyes shifted to her, waiting to see what she would do.

Cuddy glared at him. She was tired of drifting around in the boat catching nothing but junk and wanted to go back to the cabin. He clearly knew that and was being difficult.

"I think you should take something off." She carefully moved toward him as the boat rocked gently.

"Oh no!" House tried to back away but realized that would mean going overboard. "I know where this is going to lead."

Cuddy stopped and looked at him so sweetly his teeth hurt. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not falling for your little tricks again. Get back to your side of the boat." He pointed away from him.

"But I like your side better." She slid her hands along his legs as she continued toward him slowly.

House gulped as he felt her fingers fumble with the button that held up his jeans. He wiggled his fishing rod, hoping for a catch to distract him.

"Why don't you put that away?" She was unzipping his jeans now and he tightened his grip on the pole.

"Because I'm fishing." House forced his mind to think about anything but her fingers gently slipping into his shorts. He cleared his throat. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm tying to seduce you," she said, pulling him out into the fresh air.

"You think I'm just going to give in because you start stroking me…?" He had to take a breath as her fingers glided across his shaft.

"Yes." She knew she could. "You don't think I can?" She was always up for a good challenge.

He was going to have to lie. Who knows, it might lead to something interesting. "Nope."

He didn't think Cuddy was stupid, and she probably knew exactly what he was doing, but she didn't seem to care. Maybe she did feel bad about what she'd done to him last night. She should. House still felt an aching need, despite his fruitful trip to the bathroom. It was just no substitute for her.

House expected her to strike a deal, but she didn't. She was too busy sucking his neck slowly. "You're not going to give me an ultimatum?"

Cuddy stopped what she was doing and looked at him. "Were you expecting one?"

"Well, yeah."

"Do you want one?" Her hand was trapped between their bodies. One finger had enough room to gently rub him up and down softly.

"No." His rode slipped out of his hand and floated off on the lake. He didn't try to stop it. It was his uncles rod, not his.

"Then shut up!" She went down on him, slowly, working her way down his chest, her hands pulling up his shirt so she could kiss his chest sweetly. When her mouth reached its final destination, House tried to act as though he were unaffected. He was trying to stay cool, but having been denied a true release the night before only made him more responsive to her touch.

He erupted much sooner than he would have liked, and cursed his lack of control as she pulled herself up with a self satisfied smile. "That was easy," she teased, wiping her mouth on one of the paper towels they'd brought to wipe their hands.

"I didn't want you to rock the boat too much." That was House's cover story, lame and unbelievable, but enough to protect his ego.

"Right." She wiped him off then zipped him back up again. "Can we go back now?"

"I'm not done fishing." House wasn't going to let her win.

"You lost your rod." Her eyes twinkled with triumph.

"I'll use yours." House gave her a winning smile.

Two sets of brilliant blue eyes flashed down to where Cuddy's pole lay, forsaken. Two bodies lunged in unison toward the pole. One boat began to rock violently in the water.

"Stop!" Cuddy grabbed the sides of the boat and House grabbed the fishing rod.

"I win!" He said triumphantly, holding the rod away from her.

A flash of malevolence crossed her beautiful face. "Oh really?"

House didn't like the look one bit. Nor did he like it when she started rocking the boat even more.

"Don't you dare!" He said threateningly.

"Or what?" She kept rocking. Water was lapping up over the edges of the boat now, dampening their shoes.

House felt the rod in his hand. He imagined what kind of mark it might leave if he took her over his knee and gave her a good thwack or two. He held it out over the side of the rocking boat and let go. They'd be in the water long before he could get her over his knee.

"Good boy." Cuddy stopped rocking the boat and handed him the oars.

"I hate you." House grumbled.

"I love you too," she smiled, hoping that the more he heard it, the more he'd get comfortable with saying it.

"I think you're confused. I said I HATE you."

"I know what you said House. Now row."

House rowed. He called back on his years as a rower in college and made long, full strokes. He was proud of his upper body strength and used this opportunity to show off to her. They were back to shore in no time.