A/N: Hi all, I feel the need to explain that I began writing this story before the season finale episodes and so in this world Wilson and Amber are still happily playing together. I actually feel a bit sad about that! But Amber is not who this story is about.


--

The next weekend

"Who are you and what have you done with my sister?" Sarah was sitting on the sofa watching MTV and eating straight from a large tub of ice-cream.

It was two am on Saturday morning and Jen was just getting home. She taken her heels off in an attempt to reduce the noise of her walking in at such a late hour and they were hanging from her fingers. But as Sarah was obviously awake, there was no need to tiptoe.

Jen dumped her shoes and purse and sat down on the sofa, grabbed the spoon from her sister's hand and shovelled a large spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

"I know, not like me is it?" she mumbled through her mouthful, glancing down at her watch. "I didn't realise it was so late."

"Where's Fiona?"

"She met someone and went home with him."

"What about you? Did you find Doctor Lurve again?" Sarah made moon eyes at her as she sing-songed the silly name.

"I didn't see him out tonight and he never called, like I said he wouldn't." She winced, regretting how much detail she had shared with Sarah and Fiona after spending the night with Greg.

When she'd arrived home from his place, Sarah and Fiona had been sitting together on the sofa, worried about the fact Jen hadn't been home all night. Jen had thanked Fiona profusely for staying over and the pastries she'd bought to share with Sarah had to be stretched to all three of them. Sarah, ravenously hungry after her night and day of vomiting had, between bites, given her sister a thorough look over. Finally, she'd turned to Jen and said, "Spill the beans."

Jen, feeling very teenage but unable to stop herself, had. Spilled. Just about everything. Including the fact that she doubted she'd see him again.

Sarah and Fiona had "ooh-ed" and "ah-ed" and then given Jen a long lecture about g-spots and favoured sexual positions and Sarah had run to her bedroom for a book called Everywoman, pressing it in Jen's hands in disbelief that she'd never read it. Fiona swore on the spot to make it her goal to find Jen lots more good sex and to chase down "Doctor Lurve" as they were now calling Greg, so Jen could get more.

True to her word, Fiona had turned up last night, ready to take the girls out on the town. Sarah and Fiona took Jen into their hands, applying her make-up and pulling some clothes from Sarah's wardrobe, eventually finding a sexy black tank top that looked great with jeans and strappy black heels. Jen didn't feel quite herself, but decided to let the girls have their way and sat back patiently while they put on eyeliner and pulled her hair into a complicated chignon. But then Sarah, unlike her usual bubbly self, declared a headache, insisting the other two go on without her.

Jen wanted to stay home with Sarah, still feeling guilty about leaving her the previous weekend, but Fiona was so excited and Jen didn't want their hard work on her image to go to waste. So Jen and Fiona had hit a couple of bars, including the one where she'd met Greg, but after a bit of flirting – still very hesitant on Jen's behalf – and numerous cocktails, Fiona had hit it off with a tall guy who told them he was a cinematographer and Jen had been relieved to call it a night.

"Ah well, sis, at least you're out and about. Two Friday nights in a row, nonetheless! Good for you." Sarah gave Jen a smile that showed she was genuinely pleased for her.

"What about you? How's your headache?"

"Oh…it's fine."

Sarah's dismissive tone immediately had Jen concerned. It just wasn't like Sarah to decline an invitation unless she was really sick or…

"You're still worried about the drink spiking aren't you?"

"Nah." Sarah grabbed the spoon from Jen and dug into the ice cream again.

"Then what are you still doing up at two am? If you're not feeling well?"

"Waiting for you to get home," Sarah said eventually, so quietly Jen almost didn't hear her.

"Worried about me?"

"I guess…I couldn't sleep…and then I started thinking about how easily it happened…what could have happened…" Sarah drew in a shaky breath.

"Right, that's it. We're just going to have to go out next weekend too."

Sarah smiled weakly.

"It's all about getting back on the horse," Jen said, hearing the echo of Greg's words to her the previous weekend. "So to speak. Sarah, you've looked after me for a while. Let me look after you for a change. We'll go out and have fun and watch each other's drinks. And see who we both can meet. There are some nice guys out there."

"Like Greg?"

Sarah's use of his real name shocked Jen into silence for a second. It caused Jen to pause and think seriously about him. Again. She'd had no shortage of thinking about him in the last week. In fact she couldn't really remember of any length of time that she'd gone without thinking about him. Or what they'd done together. Those memories still made warmth pool between her thighs.

"I don't know if nice is the word I'd use."

"No, it didn't sound like that would be the word that would fit. Hot, horny, talented? Am I getting close?"

"Sarah!" Jen could feel herself blush, yet again ruing how much she'd shared with her sister, but she'd been so excited by her own boldness she couldn't contain herself. The one thing she hadn't shared was the knot of sadness she felt at knowing she wouldn't see him again. Something about him made her want to take care of him, to hold him until the pain she could see he was in went away, to make him see that he could be loved. But then, she told herself, they were familiar emotions to her – she felt them at her work all the time, looking after damaged children who often needed to be loved just as much as they needed to talk.

But it had been a one-night stand and all those feelings were next to useless.

"He's definitely got a gentle side, but I think it's buried pretty far down," Jen said eventually.

"So maybe he's dark-chocolate-coated nice. You know, a hard, slightly bitter outside with a marshmallowy inside."

"Marshmallowy? No." Jen shook her head. That was definitely not the right adjective. "Besides it doesn't matter. He hasn't called and it was a one-night deal. It was good for me, broke the little drought I was in, showed me that it was actually possible to have sex with someone other than Matt. So next weekend we just have to find someone new."

Jen ignored the disappointment that ate at her at the thought. The next poor sap you get into bed, Greg had said, don't hold him up to these lofty ideals.

The problem was, Jen seemed to have very quickly grown to like the strong, complex and slightly burning taste of single-malt highland scotch whisky. Going back to a cheap blend was going to be difficult.


--

The next Friday night

Both nursing their third drinks of the evening, House and Wilson had been quiet for a while. They had each had big weeks and difficult patients which – for once – had all been resolved that day. So they felt like many other people in the bar who had the luxury of working Monday to Friday – tired, a little drained, and looking for some fun to perk them up for the weekend.

"Decent of your patient to die and mine to respond to the prednisone on a Friday afternoon, wasn't it?" House said congenially. His recently renegotiated deal with Amber meant he got Wilson on Friday nights and they seemed to have made this bar their regular haunt.

"House," Wilson began scoldingly. He looked as if he was about to say more, then just shook his head as if he'd decided he couldn't be bothered with the reprimand.

"Well, it is. They could have lingered into Saturday and we wouldn't be here, drinking this fine whisky and enjoying the scintillating company of…" he trailed off and waved his hand in the direction of a group of guys who seemed about to launch into a fist fight.

"Yeah, we have to find a new bar."

"I don't know, I kind of like this one."

Wilson gave him a searching look.

"Are you looking for the kindergarten teacher, sorry, philosopher again?"

"What? No." House hoped his tone was appropriately dismissive. Actually he had been wondering. Hoping?

It was annoying that Jennifer Edwards kept popping into his brain at the most inappropriate moments. When he was in the middle of a differential with his team; talking to Cuddy and ogling her breasts; writing a Viagra prescription for an elderly clinic patient called Edward. "That ship has sailed."

"Really?" Wilson looked doubtful.

House had decided that maybe he did need to see Jen again – not that he was about to admit that to Wilson. And not that he'd do anything as reasonable as pick up the phone and call the number that she'd left lying on the desk. He decided it was a fate thing and something he needed to get out of his system. It had been a while since he'd had hot, sweet sex the way he had with her. Not to mention a couple of hours' worth of interesting conversation. It was entirely possible that his body simply craved a repeat performance. Once he did that, then the craving would be gone.

Yeah, right. Like once he had one more Vicodin that would be enough.

"Another drink?" He asked Wilson, side-stepping what he could see was about to become an inquisition.

"Okay, but that better be the last. Amber doesn't like it if I…"

"Don't want to know." House held up a hand abruptly to stop Wilson's explanation and rose to go to the bar. He ordered a whisky and drained it immediately, ordering another drink for himself and a wine for Wilson. Was it just him, or had the whole world suddenly paired off? Wilson was dopey about Amber and he'd heard a rumour that Cuddy had been dating someone she'd met at a fundraiser. There was Chase and Cameron and…he didn't really want to know about the romantic lives of the rest of his team. But he was sure they had them. He felt like he was on Noah's Ark but somehow had forgotten to bring his pair.

House was putting the change from the drinks back into his wallet when he heard Jen's giggle. She was with her sister and another woman and they had just walked in. The three of them walked right past him, through the crowd around the bar, heading to an empty booth towards the back. Jen looked, well, hot. She'd done her hair differently or something, and her low-cut t-shirt revealed the swells of her stunning breasts.

House let out a loud sigh. He returned to the table with Wilson, moving his chair slightly to see if he could get a vantage point to observe the three women. Unfortunately the crowd around the bar made that impossible.

Wilson started telling him a story about Amber's aunt Grace who'd come to visit and who was apparently a seventy-year-old version of Amber. She sounded painfully up front, loud, and bordering on obnoxious if you asked House, and he knew quite a bit about the subject. But Wilson made it sound like she was hilarious.

Amazing what love does to a man.

House shook his head at Wilson and watched as the girl he didn't know from the trio went to the bar to order drinks.

"Well, I'm going to go now. Doesn't seem like you're very interested in my company anyway."

Wilson's words brought House back to the table. He'd been wondering what sort of drink Jen had ordered. Since when did he care about shit like that?

"No, I…" House didn't quite know how to explain himself.

"Don't drink too much tonight House."

"No mommy, I promise I won't," House said childishly, pouting up at Wilson as he rose and donned his coat.

"Don't have too much sex tonight," House said to Wilson in the same warning tones that he had used. "Aunt Grace is probably listening at the door with her hand down her very large, beige panties."

"Oh, that's gross House." Wilson made a face. He headed for the door. "Besides, you're just jealous," Wilson called over his shoulder as he left.

House turned back to his blocked view of the girls' booth and picked up his drink.

"Yeah, I probably am," he muttered into the glass.


--

Jen had let Sarah and Fiona dress her up again but Jen had exerted her own influence this time, so she felt far more comfortable than she had last week. She was wearing narrow-leg black pants that gave her a slim line and even made her look a little taller. The cherry red top that she'd borrowed from Sarah had a daringly low scooped neck that did make her nervous, but it had gathers up the sides that pulled the fabric into soft folds around her belly. It was tight, but hid her little bulges beautifully. Her hair was out, falling in waves over her shoulders, and she'd let Fiona do her eyeliner again. Her hands still couldn't help fluttering over her décolletage, nervous about the amount of skin on display, but she had to admit that she felt a bit sexy.

Right from the start, two guys offered to buy them drinks, but the girls had agreed they were on a strict "buy our own only" night. Still, Jen had actually managed to flirt with a guy, even reaching over to squeeze his arm muscles after he made some boast about working out. He was extremely attractive and Jen knew that even though he was talking to her, he was completely out of her league. She stepped back and let her sister take over and sure enough after half an hour Sarah was kissing him near the bar. Jen didn't really mind. After all, they were out to ensure Sarah got over her fear.

Then she met Nick, a serious guy with black hair and small round glasses. He seemed shy, but he'd made an effort to cross the room to talk to her, so Jen felt she had to talk to him out of politeness if nothing else. He was a scientist and very passionate about his work, talking about it in detail that spun far above Jen's head. She was starting to feel tired and even a bit disappointed with the night and wondered if she could catch a cab home. She'd honestly tried her best, but this scene was just not her.

Jen was starting to work out how to extract herself from Nick's conversation so she could go and tell the girls she was heading home when she felt someone walk up close behind her and whisper in her ear.

"Dr Jennifer Edwards." His low, gravelly voice in her ear was not at all what Jen was expecting. It immediately brought back memories of their lovemaking and the desperation and desire in his voice when he'd called her name in bed. She turned away from Nick abruptly.

"Hello, uh…" She felt completely thrown; sent off-balance by just his presence. He was standing close enough that she could feel his heat, smell the soap he must have just recently used. If she'd seen him in the bar before then, anticipated talking to him again, she was sure she would be more in control. But her brain seemed to have gone on a holiday, taking her through the erotic mental photo album that was their night together.

"Um…I…" she stalled, trying to work out what to say. She watched him frown at her, obviously displeased about something. They stared at each other in silence for a long time.

Nick put a hand on her arm. "Jen, are you okay?"

She turned back to face Nick and smiled at him, grateful for his concern. He really was a nice guy. Doing absolutely nothing for her, but a nice guy nonetheless. "Thanks Nick, yeah I'm fine. We're…old friends. Nick this is…"

She turned back to House but he'd spun on his heels and walked away from her and was now halfway to the back of the bar. Jen looked at his retreating back, puzzled.

"Some friend," Nick offered helpfully.

"Yeah, I guess…" Jen was still confused. What had just happened?

"Now I have this friend…" Nick went off telling another of his "wacky science geek" stories and Jen listened patiently, trying to make sure she was nodding and "ah-ing" in the right places. Her brain was entirely focussed on Greg. Where had he gone? What was he thinking? Why had he even come up to speak to her in the first place? The only reason she'd agreed to come to this bar again in the first place was because she was sure that if they did happen to accidentally run into each other, he'd play it so cool as to bring on another ice age. But calling her name right into her ear? Close enough that she could feel his warm breath and smell the whisky he'd been drinking?

After putting up with a few minutes of Nick's excruciatingly boring story, Jen excused herself to go to the bathroom. She spent a long time staring at the back of the cubicle door, her thoughts in a whirl. Just when she'd stopped thinking about him every second minute, there he was back again. She didn't understand what part she was supposed to play and she once again cursed Matt and the way her life had turned out. She was sure any other woman would know what to do. Should she be cool and disinterested? Friendly and flirty? Sighing loudly she eventually washed her hands and left.

As soon as she was out of the bathroom door, someone grabbed her wrist painfully tightly, pulled her backwards and then spun her against the wall outside the washrooms. She didn't even need a second to realise who it was. His cane clattered to the floor as he grabbed both her wrists and restrained them above her head, pinning her against the wall with his body. She could smell the whisky on his breath and feel the arousal he was taking no pains to hide pressing into her belly.

"Did you forget my name Jen?" His voice was seductive yet cold, with a dark edge of something from a dream.

He ducked his head to kiss her ear. Despite herself, Jen felt liquid heat immediately begin to pool between her legs. Her heart beat notched up several speeds and her breathing quickened.

"Jennifer Edwards? Did I not make you call it out often enough to make you remember it?" He kissed a hot, wet trail down her neck.

"No…" Jen said breathlessly, trying to explain.

Before she could continue he pressed his mouth to hers, a wet, open-mouthed kiss that went way beyond any of the kissing they'd done on her sofa. His tongue demanded and his mouth took; Jen unable to escape even if she'd wanted to.

He pushed his right leg roughly between hers, forcing her legs apart, rubbing against her mons with his thigh.

"Greg, I…"

"That's better."

Jen groaned as his mouth trailed down her neck again, unable to keep her eyes from fluttering closed. She knew the corridor outside the bathrooms was mostly hidden from the bar, but someone could walk around the corner at any time and see them. Jen was aware enough to be surprised at herself for not caring.

She struggled against his strong hand holding her wrists prisoner and he eventually let her go, bringing his hand down to run a fingertip just inside the low neckline of her top.

"I see you got some new clothes," he whispered, his mouth next to her ear again.

"It's Sarah's," she said, for lack of the brainpower to think of anything better. His breath on her face, his thigh between hers and his erection pressing into her stomach was almost sensory overload.

"Sarah gets a gold star for sharing."

He lifted his leg higher, pressing into her more forcefully. He smiled darkly at her when she gasped.

"Greg, I…" She tried again. Wanting to explain herself.

He kissed her again, forcing her mouth open, plundering her. His hand plunged down her top, pushing his way inside her bra to cup her naked breast in his hand.

"God, Jen, you have the most luscious breasts." He pulled his mouth away from hers, muttering against her neck as he licked the pulse point at the base of her neck.

He was drunk, she could taste it, smell it, hear it in his slurred words. He pressed against her harder, forcing her back into the wall, one of his hands pulling down her top indecently in his quest for her bare flesh, the other tangling in her hair and forcefully pulling her head to his.

"Greg, you're hurting me…" Jen turned away from his mouth to speak, starting to feel a little flicker of fear. She was trembling with desire, and part of her even wondered about heading into a cubicle in the ladies and letting him have his way. She knew he'd find her panties drenched and her body opening for him willingly. But he was playing just a little too hard for her comfort.

"Come on Jen," he said, more than a bit of little-boy pleading in his voice. "We didn't get a chance to do it rough." He took his hand out from her top and pushed it down between them, lowering his leg and replacing its pressure against her with his hot palm. "I know you'll like it. I'll make you come again and again."

She had no doubt that he would.

"Greg, you're drunk."

"I know," he said, wiggling his fingers against her. It took all her self-control not to moan aloud. "I promise that it doesn't affect my performance."

Jen opened her eyes just in time to see Nick round the corner from the bar. He stopped, frozen in place as he took in the scene in front of him. Jen realised he could probably see most of her breast because House had pulled her top down and her bra cup aside.

After a moment's embarrassed silence, Nick just nodded.

"I was worried when you didn't come back. But I see you're…okay." He turned and went back into the bar.

Jen took a deep breath, mortified as she came to her senses. This was not what she did. Sensible, studious, shy and slightly overweight Jennifer Edwards did not lose her mind being groped in the hallway of public washrooms.

"Greg. Greg!" Jen had to call his name a couple of times before he responded, bringing his head away from the path he was following to her breast, looking up at her, his eyes red-rimmed.

She put her hands on his chest and pushed him away, feeling how unsteady he was. She realised that he had been resting most of his weight on one leg for a while and it had probably hurt him to press his thigh into her the way he had.

Making sure he had one hand in contact with the wall, she pushed herself back into her bra and righted her top. She leant down and picked up his cane, forcing it into his right hand.

"Greg, it's time to go home."

"Come with me."

"No." Jen struggled with the word and then realised that she didn't really mean it. "Not tonight," she modified.

"Yes, tonight. Come on. Come." He raised his eyebrows suggestively, emphasising his lame double entendre.

Jen shook her head. She realised that rationalising with him in this state would be pointless. And he was an adult. She wasn't responsible for him.

"Look, I'm going home. You have my number. Call me. Maybe we could go out one night."

House blinked at her slowly but didn't say anything.

Jen sighed. It was time for her to leave. She turned and left him, walking back out into the bar, searching for Sarah.

Sarah gave her a questioning look, and Jen realised she must look a bit dishevelled. But putting off explanations for another time, Jen gave a hurried story about not feeling well and headed outside to grab a cab.

As she wrapped her coat more tightly around her at the icy wind, she turned and looked back through the glass doors. Greg was leaning against the bar, obviously about to order another drink.

He is an adult. Not my responsibility. He can do what he likes. Jen screwed up her face and stamped her foot. No! No! No! she railed internally, having a tantrum about it, but knowing that her conscience wouldn't allow any other outcome.

A cab pulled up and Jen leaned in the window.

"Hi, just let me get my friend. I'll be out in a minute."

"Sure lady, but I'm starting the meter."

Jen nodded her agreement and then headed back into the bar.

"Greg." She put an arm around his shoulders and smiled at the look of pure wonderment he gave her when he recognised her.

"Jen, you came back!" He gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Knew you would," he confided noisily into her ear.

"Come on, the taxi's outside."

He nodded and wrapped his arm around her waist, making a stumbling way out of the bar. Jen helped him into the cab with difficulty, suddenly very aware of how tall and broad shouldered he was.

The cab took off into the night, the driver obviously impatient with the waiting, even though he was being paid.

"Where to?"

Jen couldn't for the life of her remember the name of Greg's street. Obviously the stress she was under when she had driven over there had blotted it from her mind.

"Greg?" She shook his shoulder, but he'd fallen asleep, leaning into her. "Greg? What's your address?"

"Come on lady, where am I driving to? I can drive in circles all night if you want me to. As long as you pay the fare."

Jen rolled her eyes. Of course she would have to get the grumpiest cab driver in the city.

She sighed and gave him her address.

Thankfully House woke up enough to get himself into Jen's apartment. She wondered momentarily about having him sleep on the sofa, but she didn't want Sarah to be startled when she came home and it was entirely possible that Fiona might expect the sofa if she didn't pick up a guy.

She dragged him into her bedroom, sitting him down on the bed. She knelt down to take off his shoes and socks. As she pulled the last sock off she could feel his gaze on her. Looking up, she was startled by his suddenly clear blue gaze.

"Thank you." He spoke so softly she was almost not sure if he actually said it. His eyes held hers for a long moment.

"You're welcome," she said finally, blushing and looking away. Taking a deep breath to rid herself of the feelings his look had provoked, Jen stood up and put a hand under his shoulder.

"Stand up and undo your jeans."

"Best offer I've had all night." His leering look was back, the sweet and slightly sad Greg from earlier buried under what she could now see was the mask he wore to protect that version of himself.

He fumbled undoing his jeans, but finally got them down, pushing his silky boxer shorts with them.

"Uh-uh," Jen shook her head, grabbing the waistband of his boxers and pulling them back up.

"Oh Jen, you weren't so shy the other night…"

"You weren't so drunk the other night."

He closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "Fair enough."

She sat him down, took his jeans all the way off, unbuttoned his shirt, pulled his t-shirt over his head and lay him back in the bed. Jen went out into the kitchen to get him a glass of water, and he was asleep and snoring loudly by the time she returned.

"Not one of your better ideas, Jen," she muttered to herself. She found her pyjamas and undressed, safe in the knowledge that there was no way he was seeing anything.

She crawled into bed and sighed to herself loudly. In bed with Greg again. But not exactly how she'd pictured it. She could still smell the soap from earlier, but his own sweaty male smell was filling the bed. God help her, but it seriously turned her on. The stale alcohol smell though? That she could do without. Despite it, she couldn't help herself from curling into his warmth, one hand on his hard, round shoulder, watching his profile and his chest rise and fall until sleep claimed her as well.