A/N: This would have been up much sooner - I made a deal with Alias424 and she ended up updating before me, darn it - but after I wrote this I didn't like it very much. I decided to let it sit for a few days, and lo and behold when i re-read it it looked good to me agian, with a few minor edits. Feedback, is, as always appreciated.
She found him sitting on her front porch again. It was eerily similar – and except for the slight sway of his hands against the wood of his cane, held loosely in front of him, she would have sworn a case of deja vu. She could barely make out his dark outline, hunched against the equally inky night and she wanted to turn around and pretend she hadn't seen him. Go back into her bedroom and the cold glow of her lap top – the comfort of familiar things like files in the middle of the night. She had to make a decision, because the cup of black coffee she had her hand wrapped around was burning her skin.
She pushed the door open with a sigh – as if she had ever been able to walk away before – and sat down next to him, handing him the hot beverage silently. He took it, his long fingers brushing against hers as it slid from her hand into his. His frame seemed to relax as he took a sip, balancing the cup carefully on his knee as he stared out at the silent suburbia around them. The silence seemed to stretch between them, like a fine thread – ready to snap at any moment.
"I haven't been sleeping lately." His voice was quiet and clear when he finally spoke, and she frowned at the azalea bush in front of her thoughtfully. He wasn't drunk.
"I thought- Wilson said-"
"Wilson drinks like a fish. And I'm old enough now to know my limits. I only had three drinks at most. He called you huh?" His hand was gripping the mug tightly again, and the tension had returned to his body, tightening him like an over tuned guitar string. She wondered if he could actually shatter the mug with his grip. She took it out of his hand, setting it on the step beside her before she could find out.
"Yes. He said he lost you and I have pretty hair and a great rack, and then -" She hesitated for a brief moment and debated telling him that according to Wilson, he liked her. "- I told him to go home. He should be nice and hungover tomorrow." He nodded, and she was sure he noticed the pause, but thankfully he said nothing about it. "Why haven't you been sleeping?"
He shrugged, twirling the cane between his fingers, rolling it forward, and then back slowly. "I'm not a very patient man."
"No, really?" She scoffed slightly, her voice dry and humorless.
"I know that's not a surprise – but I am trying to be one here. Patient, I mean. It's not working out so well." He frowned slightly and she glanced over at him thoughtfully. "I find myself seized by inexplicable urges. Like sitting on your front porch again in the middle of the night. I have no reason to be here. I have a nice home – with a warm bed – more liquor. Drugs. In fact the only thing it doesn't have is you and I find that enough of a reason to sit on your concrete step, despite the fact that it's cold and hurts my leg, just because you're here." He turned his head toward her as he spoke and she felt her heart stop for a moment before beating again a moment later. His gaze was intoxicating and she felt her skin tingle under it – a slightly unpleasant clamminess that was oddly thrilling.
She wanted to touch him, she wanted to shift closer and slide across the distance so that her body matched his, and fitted against him perfectly. That she would fit was a certainty. Her hips even rolled slightly – but she didn't make the actual movement, just leaned toward him briefly before returning to her original position. She stared forward again, breaking away from his gaze because it always saw too much. Her azalea bush swayed in the late night breeze and she wondered why they always had to be so out of step with one another. In the three legged race of life – they would lose.
"I'm so used to being three steps behind you Cuddy – and the view is admittedly very nice-" She smiled at that, but it was tight and short lived. "I don't know when I passed you. How did I miss that?"
"You were probably busy trying to ruin your life at the time." She spoke calmly and he winced visibly. She felt the ache in her chest grow larger at the physical reaction to her words. She never meant to hurt him – then again he never meant to hurt her either. Their words were often weapons, small daggers, short arrows, some heavy swords, handled clumsily and more painful because of it. "I didn't mean-"
"Don't apologize." He spoke swiftly, and she wondered if it was his mantra. His motto for life. Never apologize. "I should go." He gripped the cane tighter in preparation to stand and she felt an unexplainable panic seize her. If she let him go now – he'd never come back. Isn't that what you wanted? No. Her hand shot out, gripping his wrist tightly and feeling the strong muscle knitted around the bone there as he paused and looked over in surprise.
"Don't go." She couldn't say what she wanted to say – don't leave me. Don't give up. She still needed time, but he needed reassurance that it wasn't all for nothing.
He still stood, pushing up until her hand fell away from his and she felt a sudden tightening in her body – burning behind her eyes and she could almost swear she wanted to cry – but she didn't do that. She didn't even notice his hand grasping hers and pulling her up as well until she was staring at the logo on his shirt and wondering if he even owned an iron. He didn't let go of her hand and she stood there in the semi darkness, gripping his hand tightly – praying he would stay. Wishing she could get past this fear – whatever it was – and just give him what he wanted. Wishing she didn't feel terrified even now, her skin sweating nervously, wondering if he could feel her elevated heart rate.
He shook his head slightly, clearly baffled but not really needing an explanation. In their world they went on trust so often. She trusted him to be a better doctor than she was. He trusted her to be a better person. His hand broke away from hers and she held her breath as it slid up to her face, cradling her hair gently as he watched her. Despite the dark, his eyes were as bright as always and she knew she should move away, but her body didn't seem to be complying with her brain. "I promised I wouldn't push." His voice was quiet and she felt the ridiculous urge to laugh as it struck her that they hadn't exchanged one single word of their usual banter. "I'm not going anywhere."
She blinked slowly, knowing that he was leaving her now – but not leaving permanently. Her heartbeat seemed to slow as she leaned toward him thankfully. Without thinking, she rose on tiptoe, her bare feet stretching and arching, pushing her up to his height. Her lips met his hesitantly – softly and she was startled by his sudden movement. He gripped her shoulder painfully, as his mouth moved over hers, taking control. It was almost violent, yet hauntingly beautiful at the same time. Kissing him was like riding a bicycle – she remembered every sensation the moment she touched him – memories rushing back in technicolor – wrapping around her like an acid trip. The only contact between them was his mouth on hers, open and insisting and his hand that had moved to the back of her neck. If she closed her eyes, she was sure she would see a threshold image of him, burning through the back of her lids. He was imprinted on her, she knew.
He broke away from her, his hand pushing up into her hair and fisting there as if she were an anchor he was holding on to. She didn't know now why she had done it – but she wasn't sorry she had. Her lips were swollen and she felt alive for the first time in months – her skin flushed, the color chasing away the pallor that had been there. For one moment, the blood singing through her veins as she stood before him, his hand in her hair and their chests almost touching as they both fought to breathe normally, she wanted to curl herself against him and use the heat between them to forget why she had any misgivings in the first place. But as her breathing steadied, so did her thinking as the same fears gripped her, possibly even more painfully than before.
"Well, goodnight." His voice was fighting to be wryly amused but had a rough tone that he couldn't quite disguise. She smiled, reveling in the knowledge that she could do that to him. She didn't respond, not trusting her own voice, so she simply nodded. His hand pulled her forward, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before he let go and switched his balance to the cane at his side. He nodded in her direction – an acknowledgment that he would be back – or still there before he swung away abruptly and headed back down her stairs to the motorcycle he had parked at the curb. She didn't make a sound as she watched him swing onto it – his movements graceful despite his leg – and she stood still on the porch, watching as his tail lights disappeared into the dark. When she finally turned to go inside, she pressed a hand to her mouth lightly, convinced she could still taste him there.
The building was startlingly bright as she entered it the next day – her laptop case heavy in one hand and her cell phone in the other as she pressed it to her ear, trying to convince their latest donor that while his money was appreciated, they had a strict policy – now anyway – of no direct donor involvement. It wasn't going well, and she wanted to sigh heavily into the phone and just be rude for once. Out of the corner of her eye, she was shocked to see House – again on time – leaning against the Clinic counter and speaking in a voice much too loud to Wilson, who looked like crap and was wincing every time he spoke. She bypassed them deftly, ignoring Wilson's save me expression, and continued into her office quickly.
She ended the call thankfully halfway to her desk, sinking into her chair and glancing through her messages while she waited for her computer to start up. A single paper cup of coffee sat in the center of her desk, just left of her waiting messages and she smiled briefly while staring at it. She hoped it was a trend that continued – but she was especially thankful for it this morning, since her hands had been too full on the way in to grab any.
She was halfway through the cup and her messages when Wilson finally trudged in, head hung low like a dog who had been chewing on your really expensive shoes. "I ah- may have said some things.. or not. I don't quite remember-" He tripped over his own words, awkward and gangling as he stood, shoving his hands into his pockets sheepishly.
"Did you take the Advil?" He nodded as she cut him off, and looked up allowing her to see the redness still evident in his eyes. "Other than a comment or two about my.. appendages, you were fine Wilson. Don't worry about it – just go to work." Her tone was gentle – and he looked at her thankfully. "Besides, it isn't as if you haven't had to deal with me drunk over the years -"
"Once, maybe twice. And both those times House managed to.. chase you away quickly enough. I'm terribly sorry Cuddy." One of the things she appreciated about Wilson was his ability to accept responsibility. Sometimes too much – but it was a refreshing change at times.
"There's no need to apologize." She took another sip of coffee, shifting another pink slip into the pile at her right. "Honestly Wilson, it was fine."
"Well I felt awful about it – and House didn't help today – I just felt like I should apologize." His feet shuffled awkwardly and she nodded, knowing if she kept talking, he would stay there, looking for absolution that she had already given him. "I'll just uh – get back to the Clinic." He nodded slightly before exiting her office and she stared after him for a brief moment, before turning to her computer, now fully booted up. She spent the next hour returning phone calls and going over the quarterly report, before her restlessness finally forced her out of her seat and into the hospital.
House had a case today – he and his new team had been assigned it less than thirty minutes ago, she knew. So it wasn't out of the ordinary for her to find herself meandering along his floor, watching him interact with his new team. As she rounded the corner, though, she saw she wasn't the only one – as she found Chase standing behind the wall, watching intently. When she touched his elbow and he started, he grinned at her ruefully.
"It's not that I miss the job – I mean i do miss the cases, but I know I've learned all I could. I just- I remember my first weeks on the job as being so horrible. He was never nice, or easy on me. Never complimented me, nothing. I just wanted to know – if it was really as bad as I remembered. If it was-"
"Just you?" She smiled wryly, and glanced over her shoulder where House was circling various symptoms heavily in black marker, while staring at the four doctor's before him with an incredulous expression. "Believe me – I've seen him go through a few fellows. It's not just you Chase. In fact – you may have lasted the longest. So congratulations."
He smiled slightly, before glancing back into the room one more time with more appreciation. "All four of them will never last." he spoke conversationally. "I'd put money on the two male doctor's not lasting a week."
She leaned against the wall next to him, looking over as well. "How much money. Because I saw the little brunette won't make it. And House will fire the arrogant one out within two weeks. The older guy i think might make it – though i really don't think House wants him to." They watched as House started alternately hitting the white board and shouting at the fellows before him in exasperation.
"I'll put fifty on the two women losing it and leaving first." Wilson's voice spoke from behind Chase and they both turned and looked at one another. She smiled brightly – the prospect of making easy money always had made her happy – it was why she avoided casino's like the plague.
"Deal." She and Chase answered simultaneously and Wilson grinned for a moment. Chase glanced over and his smile dropped. "Crap. Incoming." He turned on his heel, leaving her leaning there alone, since Wilson had scurried off to his office quickly. She knew before looking exactly who was incoming.
"Well, didn't know you were into threesomes, Cuddy. Looked pretty cozy – did I ruin it for you?" His voice was harsher than usual and she stared up at him as he crowded into her space, leaning against the corner in front of her.
"Yes, we were just planning the time and place. How's the fellows coming along?" He frowned down at her and she walked past him, pushing against his glass door and entering his office. He trailed behind her, probably appreciating the view, but she didn't really mind.
"They're morons. As usual. Why must everyone think inside their own specialty? The heart guy always says the heart, the brain guys always says the brain. I mean, you're no genius but at least you never try to convince me it's always the hormones." He sniped as he eased himself down into his chair. She sat on the footstool, frowning at him.
"That's why you're there. They think inside their specialty because it's all they know House. Give it time." Her hand rested on his leg unconsciously and when she became aware of it, she made no move to lift it. It was a rare moment of ease between them, and she accepted it at face value.
"Yeah well. I can only teach so much, the idiots need to be willing to learn. So how much is riding on the bet?" His tone was casual but she knew he was curious, as usual.
"Fifty bucks. Guess I'm not paying Wilson enough-"
"Nah, he's just cheap. Think it's a Jewish thing?" He was laughing at her and she glared at him silently. "Who'd you bet on?"
"I'm not telling you." she smiled slightly as he sat forward eagerly.
"Why? Do you think I'll stack the odds in your favor just to get in your pants? I am shocked you'd think that Cuddy." His affronted tone didn't fool her and she rolled her eyes slightly.
"More like know, but whatever." She laughed gently and lifted her hand off of his leg carefully. "I should go."
"Administration – always on the go with the beatings and the whippings. Don't they know you need a break sometimes too?"
"You still have clinic hours today, and would you look at that? Your fellows are off testing. Bet you could squeeze some in." She stood and he winced painfully.
"I could squeeze something in..."
"House." It was a warning and he shrugged unapologetically.
"Fine. Killjoy." He pushed himself up, standing beside her, closer than usual. She assumed it was part of his plan. "I'll go into the clinic – but I can't guarantee-"
"Do you want to do something?" He stopped speaking as she blurted the question out and he frowned down at her.
"Something as in have hot dirty sex in a broom closet, or something as in have dinner? You need to be more specific."
She sighed up at him, rolling her eyes slightly. "Dinner. Maybe. Or we could go somewhere-"
"I don't do 'somewhere'. Dinner. I'll bring it to your place. How's Friday?" He didn't look surprised by her offer and she felt a certain disappointment at his lack of reaction. His acceptance had been instant, however, and this mollified her slightly.
"It just means-"
"Dinner. I got it Cuddy. So eightish?" He didn't wait for her to respond, he simply nodded as if agreeing for her and stepped around her, leaving her standing in his silent office wondering if she had made a mistake or not. It had been her choice to ask him – she knew if they continued to dance around one another, this.. whatever it was between them would never be resolved. She nodded to the empty room, before leaving quietly, and thinking how much time she had to survive to get to Friday.