Hey guys, thank again for the wonderful reviews, they're really what pushed me to write this chapter as I was so worried about doing it! So honestly, your feedback means the world to me.
I hope this chapter is okay, I haven't written anything of this sort for a long, LONG time - like, several years - so I'm well aware that it could suck. But I hope it doesn't. And also, a warning for anyone who hasn't seen the edited description, an M rating begins here!
And a special thanks to Reena (Katheryn Mae) who helped me out with the medically stuff and who kicked me up the ass to finish it today. She's written an amazing s8 one shot that she posted today called 'Return' which you should all go and read if you haven't already. Ok, I'll shush now, and I hope you enjoy the update! :)
XIII
She didn't know what made her say it, and after she said it she wondered what had come over her. It was something so personal and so sensitive she'd never even admitted it to herself, never mind the person to whom it concerned. For what felt like hours, but in reality was less than a minute, a heavy silence descended on the room. It was only disturbed by her slow movements as she walked to the sofa opposite him, sank deeply in to it and let her head fall into her hands, splaying her fingers and running them through her hair.
It was a rare occasion for House to be rendered speechless; this time it was a result of shock more than anything else. If she was going to say anything to him, that was the last thing he would have expected. It took him a few moments to get his bearings and recover, but then his brain began to process what she actually said. And even more so than that – he actually began to feel. She was in love with him. She was still in love with him, which indicated she'd been in love with him for a significant period of time. She was still in love with him, regardless of Lucas. The feelings were there, he didn't have to make them out of nothing. He just had to make her want to act on them. He wanted to stop for a moment, and just feel elated, and hopeful, but he was wary that such emotions might cloud his judgement. "If you're in love with me… Doesn't that make all of those things worth it? I mean, you never know, I could be good with Rachel. But that's a discovery for the future – I'm not asking you to let me move in or even introduce me to her. None of that means you can't give us a chance. If you really are in love with me, you can't spend the rest of your life ignoring that… Surely you have to at least try?" He wasn't playing games anymore. She'd been honest with him, so he decided it was time to be honest with her. His voice had lost its harshness and anger, and was more tentative than he'd ever heard himself speak. He looked over the coffee table at her, but she was still staring at the floor, her fingers entangled in her dark curls. And for the first time since he'd realised his night with her had been nothing more than a drug-induced hallucination, he looked and felt vulnerable.
"It's not that simple." Cuddy's voice was muffled when she first spoke due to the direction in which she was facing, but after a deep intake of breath and the sound of her then slowly exhaling, she finally looked up at him. She looked lost, bewildered almost, and as if she was in a lot of pain. Not physical pain – but like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and she was struggling to withstand the pressure. She hoped for a second, considering for the first time in a long time that he seemed to be calm and genuine, that she could actually explain herself to him. Make him understand why she couldn't just drop everything and embark on a spontaneous affair with him. "Lucas is good for me. Lucas is good for me and for Rachel. You might be right, but you know as well as I do that any relationship you and I had would be extremely high risk. We have so much history and such a delicate working balance, and not to mention raging tempers and completely different priorities – there is a huge, huge chance we wouldn't make it. And if we don't, then what happens? I've thrown away a man who was a great father figure to my daughter, and who cared for me and looked after me, all for a fling that always had only a slim chance of leading to something feasibly permanent. He may not be you House, he may not be the man of my dreams, but he's good enough…"
He tried as hard as he possibly could not to raise his voice as he got frustrated. Knowing her argument was completely valid made his case all the more difficult, and he really didn't like that this was beginning to feel like he was begging her to choose him. But he also knew that if he let his pride get in the way of this chance, he may well regret it for the rest of his life. He didn't have to swallow it, just set it aside for a while until he made her realise what she wanted. "Good enough? When the hell have you ever settled for good enough? Not as long as I've known you… Damn it Cuddy, for once it your life, stop calculating every possible outcome. Stop weighing up the risks, the pros and cons of every decision you make. I know you've got a little girl to consider now, I know this isn't all about you anymore, but that isn't a valid excuse. I know I'm screwed up, but you know, you're pretty screwed up too. So stop thinking everything through and over analysing this and just tell me who you'd rather spend the rest of your life with; me or him. Because if it's him, I'll walk out of that door and you'll never hear me mention this again. But if it's me, I'm not leaving here until we've released twenty years worth of sexual frustration and foreplay, or you've given me a damn good reason why we shouldn't."
The corners of her mouth twitched upwards in to something that resembled an amused smile and she assumed that was his intention. If he was trying to remind her why she was in love with him to make it harder for her to refuse him, he was certainly doing a very good job. One of the irresistible things about him was how he made her feel – every day he could make her feel desired, sexy and attractive, even if sometimes it was in a slightly derogatory way. She thought about what he said and began asking herself the very question he'd just posed to her. And almost subconsciously, she did exactly what he told her not to do: complied a mental list of good points and bad points of each of them. But that wasn't letting her heart decide – she closed her eyes for a moment and imagined today was her last day on earth. Which man would she run to? The answer came to her in a heartbeat; it was like someone had flicked a switch in her brain, and she had no concept of how she'd ever questioned the answer. She snapped her eyes open quickly and spoke without hesitation. "You."
"Are you serious?" The words had come out of his mouth before he'd thought about what he was saying. He couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard, and his heart rate seemed to have tripled in the last ten seconds. However, the look on her face immediately told him that was not the reaction she was expected, so he rushed to correct himself. "I mean, are you sure? This isn't going to be easy, nor is it going to be perfect. I probably won't be as nice to you as he was, I won't be around as much as he was. I won't help around the house as much as he did and it'll certainly take me a lot longer to get used to having to put up with the little squirt than it took him. We're going to fight, we're probably going to screw up at work, and we're definitely, at some point, going to think we made the wrong decision. Can you handle that? Because if you're willing to take a chance on me then I can try and be the best I can for you…" He knew that was probably even less of the reaction she was expecting but he needed to be sure. He didn't want her to commit to anything and throw away a perfectly reasonable relationship – which she could, in the future, blame him for losing – without any prior warning. And he also couldn't let her in to his heart without knowing that she was in it for the rough as well as the smooth. For once, he was the one who was being cautious, and guarded.
"You really know how to woo a woman House…" She silently marvelled at how quickly the roles had reversed. It had taken only a second for her to realise that he was right – she couldn't move on with her life without even giving them a chance. She'd never be content with what she had while there was still an opportunity she could have something better. Every objection or argument she'd constructed was only an excuse not to take the leap of faith – a leap that would change everything, granted, but quite possibly for the better. And here she was, now persuading him that this was a good idea. She hoped this wasn't his kind way of telling her he had cold feet – up until now this had all been a game, a challenge for him to throw himself in to. But this was where it got serious, and he had to be ready for that. She did her best to keep the apprehension out of her voice as she spoke, knowing that he would sense her fear and it might spook him even more. "I know what I'm getting in to. I know what and who you are; you're the man I've been fascinated by, enthralled by, and in love with, for probably twenty years. I know you can't change: you can milden, but you'll never change. But I don't want you to-" she faltered, and hoped he didn't notice. It wasn't that she did want him to change, she just didn't want to make him any false promises. So instead, she gave him a promise she knew she could keep. "But I promise, I won't leave at the first hurdle. Or even the second. Okay?"
House did notice her correction, but tried to gloss over it in his own mind. If she had wanted him to change, she wouldn't have agreed to give them a chance. That's what he told himself, anyway, and he knew if he told himself the same thing enough times, he would eventually begin to believe it. He finally made direct eye contact with her, and looked in to her eyes silently, still deep in thought. And then he nodded. "Make it the third and you've got a deal."
"Shut up, come here, and kiss me; before I change my mind."
A little over half an hour after the phone call, James Wilson opened the door to House's outer office with his elbow, whilst rearranging the collar of his white coat. It was only as the glass door swung shut behind him that he looked up and noticed that there was actually no-one in the room. As he turned back around to leave with a thoughtful although slightly confused expression, he was almost hit full in the face by the door being re-opened, causing him to stumble backwards as his best friend's three fellows entered the room at considerable speed. In order to regain his composure and regain apparent control over the situation, he cleared his throat and began to speak very quickly and professionally. "Ok, first of all we need to-"
"She has an arrhythmia; we think it's caused by dilated cardiomyopathy. We'll have to call a surgical team to inserted a permanent pace-maker, and we need to find out what's wrong with her before another organ system starts to fail." Foreman cut across him as if he wasn't even there, and most definitely as if he was in charge.
This didn't annoy Wilson, but he had a pretty good idea that it was likely to irritate the other two fellows, so before the inevitable argument broke out, he raised his finger and spoke loudly. "Yes, yes, we'll call Chase to deal with the surgery. But that can wait five minutes – we need to discuss the possible options. She's got renal failure and cardiomyopathy, what could cause both of those symptoms?" For a moment, he marvelled at how easy House's job seemed to be.
The rather polite way in which Wilson embarked on a differential diagnosis compared to that of their boss threw each of the doctors from their stride. All three stood in silence, looking from one to the other, as if too confused to speak.
"Please? Look, I know I'm not House but this patient can not die just because he's not here. Because if she does, Cuddy will be on his ass no end, and while she's making him miserable, he'll make all our lives miserable." He waved his hands urgently in a gesture to encourage them to hurry up.
This incentive seemed to kick each of their brains in to overdrive, one by one. Taub jumped in first; seemingly he had something to prove even when House wasn't there. "It could be haemochromatosis – if her body is unable to process iron, then iron deposits in her heart would cause problems, and in her joints could explain the pains she's had all her life that Thirteen is so keen to attribute to her current condition."
Scowling, obviously annoyed at his dig and still determined she was correct about the added symptoms, Thirteen tutted at her colleague and shook her head. "An iron overload doesn't explain the renal failure. Glomerulonephritis does though. Her general illness could explain the primary symptoms of the disease and then the renal failure explains the gradual progression of the condition."
"Even if her filtration system is damaged, that's not the cause, it must be a symptom because it wouldn't cause heart problems." Wilson found himself extremely surprised when he as sucked into the vortex of the ddx and found himself suggesting conditions, especially when this was completely out of his specialty. "What if Taub was partially right – what if she does have deposits in her organs but they're not iron, they're proteins… It could be-"
"Amyloidosis." Once again, Foreman cut in with an extremely commanding voice and rushed on without hesitation, seemingly convinced he was right and there was no need for any further discussion. "We need to test, and if we're right we need to correct the damage we've already done by leaving her to get worse, and then find out what caused the reaction. Are we all agreed?"
His colleagues both looked on the verge of punching him, but were both remarkably restrained and self-disciplined – because in Wilson's opinion, Foreman probably deserved to be punched – and nodded their heads stiffly. "I'll go and get consent for a biopsy so we can run a congo-red stain for amyloid." Thirteen spoken efficiently but sharply, and with a withering look at Foreman, stalked out of the room with her heeled boots clicking against the linoleum flooring outside, in a fashion that reminded Wilson distinctly of Cuddy.
As the two male fellows gave him a nod and followed her lead, Wilson pulled his cell phone out of one of the deep pockets of his white lab coat. He scrolled down his list of contacts, a look of concern lining his face. It wasn't like House to disappear and leave his team with no way to contact him in the middle of a case, without any explanation whatsoever, regardless of how pissed with Cuddy he was. And House doing something out of the ordinary was almost unanimously bad, considering the man despised change. Wilson hit the call button once he reached his best friend's name and raised the phone to his ear glancing around the outer office in hope of finding some clue as to House's whereabouts. The phone then preceded to ring continuously for over a minute, before reaching the answer machine, where Wilson cut it off before it told him to leave a message after the tone.
He then debated calling Cuddy, but he knew that if House wasn't with her, and was actually hiding in order to wind her up, he would only cause chaos. His rationalization for that one was that they had the case under control, so House's presence wasn't imperative. Not yet, anyway. He let out a huge sigh and for the second time that evening, really hoped he'd made the right decision.
They'd both slowly risen from the sofas opposite one another and began to move towards each other when House's cell phone started to ring. He cursed his luck silently and ground his teeth, but ignored the slightly tinny and muffled rendition of 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA that his right jean pocket was emitting. He continued to shuffle towards her – intentionally shuffling rather than limping, because it was at moment's like this that he didn't want to seem like a weak cripple to her – until she caught his eye and gave him that stern look that was all too familiar, and made her resemble a teacher reprimanding a student.
"House, answer it. If there's a problem with your patient, you can't just ignore it because we…" Cuddy trailed off. She didn't quite know herself what the end to that sentence was; what had they done, what had they become over the last hour or so?
He shook his head earnestly, determined not to lose this moment. "It's Wilson, it's his ringtone. If there was an issue with my patient it would be my team ringing me, not him. And the ringtone would be slightly less gay. Only slightly though." For that he received a look of extreme disbelief, so he sighed and forced his hand into the offending pocket, fishing out his out dated cell phone by the small aerial. He then thrust it towards her, showing her the flashing display on the front panel showing his best friend's name.
Smirking a bit, she rolled her eyes and nodded in consent as if she were under immense duress. However, she was actually extremely relieved. After all the emotion and the confusion of their conversation, she didn't quite know if her heart could handle him leaving right now. She felt as though she needed some sort of validation that she'd made the right decision; and if she was left on her own so soon, all she'd do is doubt herself. Although, she had a suspicion his method of validating her decision might not be the one in which she was thinking.
He couldn't keep the smirk off his on face, as he tossed his cell onto the sofa behind him and reached out to grab her hips, pulling her closer to him. "Don't try and pretend you're not happy about that." Then, he let go only for a second, to slip off his heavy leather motorbike jacket and toss it on top of his cell. He acted as if this was a perfectly innocent action but in reality, it was to make sure that if it went off again, neither of them would hear it.
Even though she hated to admit it, she loved how well he knew her and how well he could read her. And just the feeling of his hands resting on the smooth curve from her hips to her waist made her heart beat rise exponentially. As he took off his bike jacket, she took in what he called 'the smell of a real man', and lifted her hands to rest them on the his chest.
They both moved in to kiss one another at the same time; both their heads tilted ever so slightly in opposite directions. It was intended to be soft and gentle, but second their lips collided, fireworks exploded and the chemistry was visible. It was different this time; it was filled with want, desire and dare I say it, love, rather than the tears and the fear that had tainted their last kiss. Even though technically nothing had changed – she was still with Lucas – that wasn't something that was on either of their minds in that moment. It felt as though she was charging electricity through every cell in his body and her taste and smell hadn't changed a bit in the twenty years that had passed since they had last been this intimate.
As their tongues battled for dominance like this was something they were born to do, shivers were sent up her spine when he moved his hold to the small of her back. In response, she slipped her hands lower to the bottom of his t-shirt, and slid them underneath, for no other reason than to feel his rough chest against her soft skin.
House took this gesture as allowance for him to do the same, so he tucked his hands beneath her jumper and rested them on her ribs, his thumbs moving in a constant stroking motion just below the wire of her bra. He could feel his control ebbing away by the second, having waited for this moment for so long, and he knew exactly where this was leading. He knew in the back of his mind that the chivalrous thing to do was to stop and make sure she was okay with this – that this was exactly what she wanted. But he didn't want to stop; he never wanted this to stop. So he justified it to himself with the knowledge that she was a woman of her own mind, and if at any point she wanted to stop, she'd tell him.
Stemming from his touch, she had butterflies dancing in her stomach she could feel her own arousal stirring in her abdomen like a creature that had lain dormant for too long. It wasn't like she hadn't had good sex since their tryst in med school, but she'd never had great sex since then. And since then she'd become a true believer that you couldn't experience that with someone who wasn't the right person. Your person. Then she asked herself the very same question he was thinking of asking her – was she ready to do this so quickly? But it only took a second to answer herself. Yes, she was ready, because this is what started their relationship in the first place and this was something she knew they were good at. Besides, she couldn't pretend she didn't want to. So she then, slowly to ensure she didn't hurt his leg, began to walk backwards towards the door of the lounge, taking him with her. As they moved, she wrapped her hands around the bottom of his t-shirt and tugged ever so slightly.
Her actions didn't even need an explanation to him, and the first time they broke apart since the kiss had begun was for him to raise his arms and allow her to pull the shirt over his head. When he sensed she was going to keep a hold of it to take it upstairs and keep the house tidy, his eyes lit up with that mischievous spark he had, he pulled it from her grip and threw it carelessly in any direction as they moved in to the hall. He wanted this to be just like the movies – the evidence of their desire all over the house, like he was claiming it as his own after another man had practically lived there. They reached the bottom of the stairs and it was only then they broke apart again – and a thought hit him. He didn't want to say it, but he knew that if he remembered, she'd remember at some point soon and he didn't want to have to stop if they'd gotten much further than this. "What about Rachel…? Can we still, I mean will she…?"
At that, she couldn't help but giggle slightly. It was so clear he had absolutely no idea about children or families. "House, how do you think married couples with kids have sex? Only when their children aren't in?" Something about saying the word that had been unspoken between them both, even though it was clear where this was leading, made her arousal roar in contentment. It was like someone had lit a fire, and everything they did or said was adding fuel to that fire, and the increasing warmth was spreading quickly throughout her abdomen.
That was all he needed as confirmation, and her grabbed her, pressed her body against his to ensure she could clearly feel how much he wanted her. He then took hold of the back of her jumper, tugging it over her head – the neck was tight and therefore messed up her hair as it slipped off, tossing it over the banister, which to him made her look even more sexy. He then nudged her up the stairs and followed her up as quickly as he could. He enjoyed the games, the battle for control their inevitably was between them – their conflict at work translated into immense, deep passion in the bedroom.
She knew that by the time he reached the top of the stairs, she'd already be in the bedroom so she decided to speed up the process and slipped quickly out of her own jeans, discarding them into a corner. The moment he entered the room, she grabbed his belt and beginning to unbuckle whilst she felt his hand snake around her back to her bra clasp.
Before undoing it, he couldn't help but let out a soft 'wow!' accompanied by a whistle, as he looked her up and down in her black lacy underwear. He saw that for this he received a slight raised eyebrow but a seductive smile, so he continued. "Jesus Cuddy, you look even better than you did back then and I didn't even know that was possible."
"We're not at work now, call me Lisa… But I'm glad you approve." She took the opportunity while he was distracted to drag down his jeans and allow him to step out of them. She knew he was always going to be self conscious about his leg, but she didn't want to make a fuss because she knew that would make him more so.
He winced upon knowing what she could now see but he didn't want her to know how worried he was, so he unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor in order to distract himself. "Are you going to call me Greg then?" He cupped his hand around her right breast, beginning to rub it attentively as he supported her lower back with his right hand whilst pushing her back onto the bed and kicking the door shut behind him.
Arching her back in to his touch, she tried her very best not to let on what he was doing to her. She wanted him, now, but would never let him know that if she could help it. She couldn't let him win. "If the situation calls for me to say your name, then most definitely…" She couldn't help it, he made her feel incredibly sexy and she loved the look on his face as his desire was building up inside him.
Silently House cursed her – he needed to keep himself under control because he wanted to enjoy every last bit of her body first, but she was making that extremely difficult, and intentionally so. In retaliation, he grabbed the black fabric of her thong and ripped it off her, before placing sensual kisses in the crook of her neck and up to her ear lobe as he moved his hand slowly down her body. He felt her reach out and try and grab his arm when she realised what he was doing but he got there before she did and once he was there she didn't have the will power to stop him.
As his right hand reached her sex, all she could do was quiver under his touch and try to stifle a moan. She could feel her folds were slick as he rubbed two fingers on and off her clit. Over and over again. She knew he was punishing her for teasing him but that didn't make the punishment any easier to handle; in fact, it just made him even sexier. She needed his touch, as it sent sparks throughout her body and was making her legs tremble, so against her better judgement she thrust her hips towards him in an attempt to force him to give her the satisfaction she needed. It almost worked, and the sensation she received made her grab on to the headboard so tightly that her knuckles went white. "Oh God, Greg." But it wasn't enough. It had brought her so close to the point of no return already, that's how much desire twenty years of foreplay created, and he knew it.
That was why he stopped. He wanted to drive her mad, insane, wild – he wanted to hear her say his name with her voice full of desperation and lust, over and over again. And he wanted to make her wait; so he knew by letting her calm down ever so slightly would give him the opportunity to play all over again. That and the fact that seeing her in such a state made him so hard that he wanted to screw her senseless right then, and he had to resist.
His fingers leaving her body only made her growl in frustration. Her heart was pumping like crazy and her body had braced itself for an incredible orgasm, and he'd let that slip away from her. She knew it was intentional, and was more than determined to repay the favour. She took his moment of hesitation to her advantage, even though she was still recovering, and forced his boxers down to his ankles where he could kick them off. She then took his erection in her right hand and began running her fingers up and down its length, causing him to groan in deep satisfaction.
He knew this was probably one of the hardest things he was ever going to have to do. He waited so long to feel her hands on him, and she was so unbelievably skilled in what she did that he never wanted her to stop. He let himself enjoy her movements for a moment longer before pulling himself out of her grip. He spoke through gritted teeth. "Jesus, I hate you so much." As if to reinforce this point, he pushed her back up the bed and began rubbing his thumb in circles over her left nipple as he scattered kisses over her hips, moving closer and closer to her core.
There was an incredibly witty remark on her tongue in response to his accusation but all thoughts were wiped from her mind as she felt his tongue make contact with her folds. She closed her eyes and her breathing became immediately laboured as one of her hands found its way to the back of his head and her fingers ran through his hair. He swirled his tongue around, over her, and then quickly from side to side over her clit, increasing and decreasing the pressure systematically. Each change in pressure caused a high pitched cry of pleasure to escape her as he built her up in the most frustrating way he could, and she tightened her grip on his short hair.
Her grip was marginally painful but nothing could make him care. Her taste was sweet and abundant, and her hold on him only told him without words how much she didn't want him to stop. He could feel her abdominal muscles tighten again in preparation for riding out the waves of her climax and her mouth open to let out a scream of ecstasy, and then he pulled away. He knew he couldn't last any longer without screwing her because her moans were driving him insane, so he was almost relieved when he saw that incredibly determined but extremely turned on and desperate look in her eye as they locked gazes.
She knew she shouldn't have expected anything else but she cursed him for dragging her back from what felt like it would have been one of the best orgasms of her life. And she wasn't going to let him do it again. She was going to get what she wanted, and needed, and she was going to teach him what happened when he drove her wild. Her arms were still weak as she pushed herself in to the sitting position but she managed to summon enough strength to force him over on to his back, though she had a suspicion that he wasn't resisting as much as he could. She pinned him down and straddled him, her voice almost like a growl. "You want to play that game do you? You'll never win." She then lifted herself ever so slightly, and allowed him to slide in to her before groaning in relief. She was no longer stifling her noises of pleasure, she wanted him to hear exactly how good she was feeling. She then began to ride him – slowly at first, but once she felt him hit her g-spot, she saw no reason to torture herself any longer.
It was possibly one of the difficult but incredible things he'd ever witnessed. Every move she made caused him so much pleasure, and it was multiplied a million times by every expression of her own pleasure she allowed to happen. She was holding him to the bed so hard that he couldn't move a muscle, he could only watch her bring herself back to the edge whilst grunting in his own intense pleasure. Watching her, and feeling her was bringing him so close to finishing but then it all happened so fast.
She was teetering on the edge, and it only took one look at his brilliant blue but extremely hungry eyes to send her over. Her walls tightened around him and that alone with the sight of her orgasm and her beautiful grey eyes sent him along with her. She felt things in her body she'd never felt before and it was mind-blowing.
"Fuck, Lisa." Groaning her name was the best feeling in the world and as she almost collapsed on top of him, he felt himself slide out of her. Their limbs were tangled in one another's as the both as the both breathed heavily to restore oxygen to their systems. The sounds of chests heaving slowed and eventually they both descended into silence. But it was a happy, comfortable, content silence.
Finally, once again, brilliant blue met fiery grey as they shuffled so she lay on his chest with his arm around her back, and Cuddy was the first to break the silence. "So… now what?"
"I always knew you were once, twice, three times a lady."
She could almost feel his suggestive wink and smug grin as he felt like the cat who got the cream, and she reached behind her, grabbed a pillow and hit him with it. Besides, quoting Lionel Richie was so tacky. "Oh, shut up." But she couldn't help but grin too.