A/N: Okey-dokey then, let's see where this goes next. In all honesty, I have nothing more than a very loose plan and the confidence that the story already exists, and it's merely my job to put it on paper. Wish me luck.
----
What a week. Sixteen-car pileup, heart transplant, H1N1... I'd've said "What next?" but you know what always happens whenever someone says that. Not that I'm superstitious, but why tempt fate?
I needed a minute to recover from back-to-back meetings and a couple of angry former patients getting ready to sue. Fortunately, there's this depressing lounge no one ever uses, over by Pathology. It doesn't have any windows or fridge, so the lab techs usually sneak into one of the other lounges instead. The door doesn't lock, so House never hides there either.
I pulled off my jacket and shoes, and heard a light clink as something metal slipped from my pocket and hit the floor. Crashing on the couch, I scooped up the penny and examined it thoughtfully. Pretty normal as pennies go. 1982, Lincoln head, dull and a bit scratched but otherwise nothing special. Still. Keep that penny, Wilson had told me. It would be better for House to do this at his own pace.
Whatever. Clearly Wilson knew something I didn't, but at the moment I was too tired to give it much thought. Besides, I'm not an idiot – I knew what this was about. And, if you want to know the truth, I didn't have much confidence in House's ability to take it to its natural conclusion. Plain and simple, he wanted me. He'd always wanted me. The problem is that he was afraid. Afraid of change, afraid of getting hurt again, afraid of hurting me, afraid of the emotional intimacy of a real relationship.... just afraid.
He is the most frightened fearless man I've ever met, I thought, which made a lot more sense in the context of my exhaustion. I closed my eyes, penny in hand, and drifted.
---
I am sitting at my office desk, and House is sitting across from me. He's pushed his chair back away from the desk so he can freely twirl his cane. We don't speak. I'm marveling over his fingers, those dextrous, talented hands.
He's thinking. He looks... not worried, not frightened, just contemplative. For some reason this gives me hope. Finally his eyes sweep upward to mine, and the walls are gone. It's all there, laid bare, just for me. As if to seal the deal, he smiles – not his trademark smirk, but a genuine smile, and –
----
I was startled awake by, of all things, Mmm Bop. "What the hell?" I said groggily, nearly falling off the couch as I rose.
"What." House was sitting in a chair opposite the couch, feet on the coffee table, speaking irritably into his cell phone. He met my eyes briefly and looked away, seeming thoroughly put out. "You're interrupting my lunch date, Foreman."
"Damn it," I muttered, fumbling with one of my strappy heels. There's nothing worse than being rudely wakened from a lovely dream, especially such a vivid one. Even worse, I'd been dreaming that same fragment for a week and I never got to see what happened next. I'd been sure this would be the time. Very annoying.
House snapped his phone shut and watched me struggle with my remaining shoe. "Thanks a lot," I said bitterly.
"Sorry," he replied sarcastically. "I didn't mean to interrupt your beauty sleep, but you're needed out front."
"What now?" I groaned. Glancing down, I saw my penny on the floor, where I'd apparently dropped it while asleep.
"The cops brought in a murderer or something. Shot in the kneecap. They need you to sign some stuff."
"You came in here to get me, but you thought you'd make yourself comfortable first? How did you even know I was here? Why didn't you just page me?" He was watching me sleep! said a joyous voice in my head.
His eyes flickered to the penny. "You dropped something."
Now here was a bind. I could say it wasn't mine, but then he'd pick it up as soon as I left the room and certainly recognize it, if it had the significance Wilson had implied. Yet if I grabbed it now, it meant admitting I'd been carrying it around for three days – and worse, sleeping with it.
Honesty's the best policy. I picked the coin up and flicked off a little dust bunny. "You never did tell me what this was all about," I ventured.
House's eyes met and held mine, and I tried to focus on his words while searching their depths. I saw uncertainty before he shut me out, but he also seemed pleased that I still had his gift. "Sure I did. It's for luck."
"Oh. Well, thanks," I said and reached for my jacket, thanking the Powers That Be for his lack of comment on why I was holding the penny in the first place.
His lips quirked. "What were you dreaming about just now?"
Ah, he just had more important questions to ask. "I don't remember."
"Yes you do. Did it involve chocolate syrup and Cameron?" He smirked. "You were smiling."
"I dreamt of a world in which I did not have to trade my dignity for having a top-notch doctor in my hospital."
He was following me out the door. "There's nothing undignified about wanting a threesome. It's a very common fantasy. You, me, Cameron, and some whipped cream."
I stepped into the elevator; he didn't. Giving him my killer 100-watt smile, I said, "Who said anything about you being there?" With cinematically perfect timing, the door slid closed in his astonished face.