Disclaimer: Still don't own them. Only playing.
AN: Well, well, well... Whoever predicted Cuddy was going to give in soon. You were right. Now - I cut it off where I cut it off because the next chapter will go to Huddy smut land if I let it. I can go there, but I'll leave it up to you. Smut or not to smut - that is the question... Now I'm expecting lots of answers to that question.
Squinting her eyes shut, and hanging onto House tighter, Cuddy laughed out loud as he took another corner at high speed, and leaned the bike down until it almost touched pavement, swearing to herself that she'd never get on it again (which was a lie – she liked riding behind him too much) and to kill him later (which was also a lie – the most she'd do was injure him a little). She felt the cycle decelerate and picked her head up a little, daring to look around and see where he'd brought her. It seemed to be a park, nothing too special, though even through her helmet she could hear the sounds of feet hammering in the grass, and children laughing.
House watched her as she pulled her helmet off and tossed her long dark curls, now that they were free of their confinement. It was the best visual on the planet as far as he was concerned – especially with the leather chaps over her jeans and the way her jacket set off her cleavage. "Ready?"
"I'm still trying to figure out why we're here…" Cuddy said curiously. "I know you like to sit in the jogging park and watch," she could only laugh as he looked at her like she was crazy. "Or at least you did…"
"Lisa, you should know I'm not into watching… I definitely prefer a hands-on approach." He waggled his brows as he tucked his helmet under his arm and unsnapped the cane from the side of the bike.
She snorted and shook her head. "Hands off, Greg…" It still took effort to remember to call him that.
"Oh sure… But it's okay for you to manhandle me… You came really close to touching my no-no place on that last corner." He made a show of pouting as he limped into the field.
"That's because you're a suicidal maniac on that thing and you're determined to take me with you…" She shot back at him. "It seemed like the best way to get your attention – remove what you hold…" She yelped and jumped back as a sudden movement in her peripheral vision, combined with House's cane; handle end out; came shooting into her field of vision.
She stepped back to see House smirking at her, a lacrosse ball balanced in the crook of his cane – which given the smaller size of the ball wasn't as easy as he made it look. "Bet you didn't think the lacrosse stud still had it in him, huh?"
A ten year old boy in protective padding with a lacrosse stick in hand came trotting up. "Sorry House…"
"Okay, I know I've been teaching you meat heads about girls – but trust me braining the hotty with your ball so you can drag her back to your lair…" He paused. "Wait that may be a really cunning plan…"
"Hotty?" The kid said skeptically as he eyed Cuddy.
"So says the kid who doesn't know if he should yell about girl cooties or get a stiffie over Mylie Cyrus…" House snarked but was obviously and surprisingly moderating his language since he was around children.
"No…" The leader of a pack of older boys who were milling just off to the side stepped up and let House drop the ball off his cane into the pocket of his stick and eyed Cuddy as well. "She is definitely MILF." He smirked.
"Okay, roll the tongue up…" House growled, now questioning the logic of bringing Cuddy here in her leathers.
"You like me too, Greg…" Cuddy purred as the boys jogged back onto the field. Enjoying the fact that her giving in and wearing the leather get up he'd bought for her to ride with him in was working to her advantage as she teased him. "You're jealous of what … a thirteen year old."
He just smirked. "Little slow on the uptake, eh, Lise… Didn't think I'd have to spell it out for you." Then suddenly he leaned in and stole a quick kiss without giving her warning so she couldn't prevent it. "Stay here, I've got to go help these idiots with their stick handling." He waggled his brows and then tossed her his cane as one of the boys brought him a stick.
She caught it on reflex, still feeling his soft lips and tasting the slightly bitter taste that the vicodin left on them as she licked her own. Unable (or unwilling) to think, she settled down on the grass and drew her knees up to her chest as she watched him. The coach of the team nodded to him in greeting and shook his hand, before withdrawing a little. She watched as House flipped the stick around and caught the ball that one of the kids tossed him. He was obviously talking, though she couldn't quite make out what he was saying. It was fascinating to watch – he didn't move much and there were times that it was obvious that he was wincing, or holding his thigh – but he didn't retreat off the field as he moved amongst the boys doing drills – correcting a grip here, showing some boy a different technique there.
Forcing herself to live in the moment, she simply watched – a soft smile slowly taking residence on her face, her attention completely fixated on him. So when he started walking away from the game field with a heavier limp than normal and back towards her, she stood and met him half way, handing him his cane and taking his jacket from him. He slung his arm over her shoulder and let her guide him back to where she'd been sitting before they both sank into the grass. He started to fish in his pockets until he retrieved the bottle of vicodin and tossed two pills back, dry swallowing.
She frowned at that, but reached out hesitantly and began to massage his leg – waiting for him to stop her.
It didn't happen. Instead he seemed to breathe a little easier and let himself flop down in the grass. Her smile broadened at that and she moved towards him, putting a little more pressure into what she was doing. "How bad?"
"About a seven…" He admitted. "It doesn't like what I was doing…"
"But you do…" She said softly.
"Yeah, I do…" House nodded. "Didn't at first." He fell silent again.
"Are you going to be an ass if I ask how?" She said softly – never certain when she was going to run into some characteristic that was common to House both pre and post amnesia.
"Only if you want me to be." House smirked up at her, wishing she'd lean down closer – even though he was enjoying her massage. "I started coming out here for something to do. There was a men's team playing."
Cuddy could read between the lines – he'd been torturing himself like the jogging park – watching something he could never do again. She frowned; maybe he really wasn't so different after all.
"Then I came out here and the men's team was gone… Just those kids and their coach." He smirked. "I wasn't going to watch – then I realized how borderline incompetent the coach was when I saw some of the god awful stick handling going on – so I stepped in." He shrugged. "Not as good as playing – but better than watching. Hands on – like I said."
There was the difference. Without the full force of the bitterness, brought on by his memories – he was willing to try – even just a little bit. "I'm glad you found something constructive to do while I was working." She couldn't keep the bright broad smile off her face.
"I got bored." He brushed it off.
"Right…" She said somewhat amused with his avoidance then she felt his hand creep over and wrap around hers. A faint sizzle of electricity went through her at the contact. She tried to stay in the moment, to not worry or think about what would happen next but it just wasn't her to do so. "Greg…"
"Shhhh…" He said as he reached up to cup her cheek. "I know."
"No… You don't. You can't." She said with a resigned tone in her voice.
"Then tell me…" He said anger just below the surface.
"You're reclaiming your life and it's only a matter of time before you get your memories back." She smiled. "Going back to work…" She let her voice trail off. "You don't really need me at your house any longer."
"No, I really don't." House agreed in a neutral tone.
That made her draw a breath, surprised at the pain she felt. "Then I should probably…"
She felt his fingers across her lips, stopping her from speaking if she could with the intensity of his gaze on her now as he'd moved in front of her. "But I do want you there. It feels right with you there, Lise. Like you've always been there and like you should be there."
When he pulled his hand away, she just didn't have the strength to fight it any longer – no matter how much it would hurt later. Her mouth covered his and was met by equal insistence; they stole each other's breath. Lips, teeth and tongue dueling for supremacy until they split apart, a détente called by mutual need for air. "Apartment, now." Cuddy managed even as House stood awkwardly, leaning on his cane then pulled her up behind him – both of them moving towards the bike as quickly as they could manage.