The next morning was a crisp, sunny fall day, the sky a deep cornflower blue and the sun made the overnight frost sparkle. House looked out the kitchen window as he waited for the coffee maker to do its thing and scratched his bearded chin. Kitty was still asleep and he wasn't sure whether or not to wake her. Her bloody BlackBerry had already beeped twice and he figured today was going to be another busy day for her, but he couldn't help feeling that she deserved a rest.
"G'morning," Kitty said sleepily, yawning as she walked into the kitchen. She'd pulled one of his t-shirts on over her naked body and it gave House plenty of opportunity to admire those spectacular pins of hers.
"Morning. How are you?"
"All good. My toe hurts, but otherwise good." She hopped on one leg to show House the huge red blister on her little toe.
House simply raised an eyebrow. "You will go running marathons in your stilettos."
"Yeah, I know." Kitty shrugged, putting her foot back on the floor. "Coffee ready yet?"
"Gimme a break, it's early."
"Are you kidding? It's seven-thirty. I'm already going to be late for work."
"Your phone's been going off," House said, gesturing to where her purse sat in the living room.
"Already? Jeez." She sighed heavily. "This week is going to suck."
"So it would probably be better if we slept at your place this week, yeah?" House said, his tone deliberately light. "I mean, your place is closer to your office and if you've got this stupid fundraiser on Friday night—"
House was prevented from speaking by Kitty stepping up to him and rising on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his mouth. It was a gentle kiss, sweet and loving, and House returned it with every inch of his being.
When she stepped away he looked at her for a moment, trying to read the expression in her eyes. He was both gratified and slightly afraid by what he saw there, so he turned away and began pouring them both coffees.
"I'll take that as a yes," he said. "I can't make any promises, of course, if I get a patient sometimes I don't even come home, but otherwise . . . Oh, and I don't cook. It's takeout or I will occasionally stop at the grocery store if I'm given a precise list of instructions."
He could see Kitty was holding in a smile. "I understand," she said, just barely keeping a straight face.
"And next week, once the fundraiser's over, we sleep here." He handed her a mug of coffee.
She nodded. "Absolutely."
They both took sips from their cups, looking at each other from over the rims, both with the same expressions. Could they do this? Make it work? Both of them were desperate to try.
-
-
Wilson flinched slightly when Cuddy walked into his office. He wasn't sure yet whether she'd forgiven him for the House/PRC debacle, even though together they'd pushed it smoothly through the last board meeting.
"Wilson, have you got a minute?"
No, she didn't seem angry, Wilson thought. She wouldn't ask that if she was just here to lecture.
"Sure, what's up?"
"Do you know the real reason House took the job at the PRC?"
"Um . . ." Wilson wasn't sure what to say. House hadn't exactly said that the information about his biological father was a secret, but knowing how private House was, Wilson could guess he wouldn't like it to become a topic of discussion.
"He told me," Cuddy added.
"Oh, right. About his family?" Wilson asked.
Cuddy nodded.
"Yeah. Quite a revelation, isn't it? He's having a couple of big weeks on the emotional front – a new family and a new girlfriend."
Cuddy narrowed her eyes. "A new girlfriend?"
Oops. Wilson realised he probably shouldn't have said that. But oh well, it was done now. "Yeah, Catherine Brecht from the PRC. I'd say he's getting serious about his work there, but I don't think it's the research as much as the hot blonde that has his attention."
Cuddy fell silent for a while, seemingly considering Wilson's words. Eventually she nodded. "This is good. It's a good thing. He's getting out there, doing new things, spending time with a woman. It's good."
Wilson couldn't help but think there was a hint of a question in Cuddy's statement. "Yes, it's good," he confirmed. "I think he's really keen on her."
"Why?"
"Because he's hardly said a thing about her."
Cuddy gave a soft laugh. "Yeah, that'd be right."
"I'm not sure he's that interested in his new family, though." Wilson still hadn't been able to understand House's reaction to the box of memorabilia from his biological father.
"Actually, that's why I'm here. Did you realise that House's biological father was Andrew Barnes?"
"Why does that name ring a bell?" Wilson asked.
"The Barnes Trust – it's a significant donor to the hospital – to oncology."
Wilson nodded. "Of course. Wow. Small world."
Cuddy smiled wryly. "Since Andrew Barnes's death, his son Denis has become head of the trust. He called me and came to visit and I thought it was all to do with the funding, but then House told me his story and I realised – Denis is interested in trying to get to know House."
"I don't think House is interested in getting to know Denis," Wilson said warningly.
"I know. But sometimes House is too cautious for his own good. Not when it comes to medicine," Cuddy added quickly, "but in his personal life. What harm can it do to get to know his half-brother a little better?"
Wilson caught the hint of conspiracy in Cuddy's voice. "What did you have in mind?"
"Nothing too dramatic. It's just . . . well; I've invited Denis and his partner to join us at the PRC fundraiser on Friday night as guests of the hospital. I was thinking that it might be nice if they 'accidentally on purpose' ended up on the same table with House and had a chance to chat. You know – it'll be a low-pressure situation, plenty of other people around, no drama if conversation flags because they'll be surrounded by other people."
Wilson began to nod as Cuddy outlined her plan. It sounded harmless enough. Mind you, House had a way of turning even the mildest situation into a crisis, but Wilson couldn't see any huge flaws in the idea.
"Yeah, I guess that might work."
"And I'll get Catherine to sit with us too. We can just pretend that's a coincidence if he's being all coy about their relationship, but if she means a lot to him, then it might be helpful if she was nearby."
Wilson shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."
"I'll call her now, shall I?" Cuddy raised her eyebrows at him and flipped open her cell phone. "Catherine? It's Lisa Cuddy from Princeton Plainsboro. Yes. Now, about the fundraiser on Friday night . . . yes, we still want three tables. I was hoping you might join me as my guest on our table. Seeing as Dr House is to be introduced as the new Chairman, it makes sense that the PRC's Executive Director is there at the invitation of Princeton Plainsboro."
She paused and gave Wilson a conspiratorial wink as she obviously listened to whatever the other woman was saying.
Cuddy nodded. "Yes, yes, I can do that for you, no problem. That's great. Wonderful. Okay, well, I'll see you on Friday." She flipped her phone shut and gave Wilson a grin. "All sorted."
-
-
For House, the next few days passed without incident and, without patient. He had an easy time of it, clocking in a few hours in the clinic, surfing the web, planning an elaborate hoax on Wilson that was spoiled at the last minute by Taub.
And, as promised, he spent each night at Kitty's house. Every evening they spent together they forged new and ever-more comfortable routines. House found himself thinking of Stacy more than he had in years, not in a longing way, but in more of a fond, occasionally melancholy way. Probably because she was the last woman he'd spent intimate time with, the way he was now with Kitty. Silly things, like fighting for the sink when they were brushing their teeth, his claiming of the remote control, and even her scolding him for leaving a wet towel on the bed, all made him remember what it had been like to share his life with someone else.
He'd only known Kitty for just over a week, but it was already longer than it had taken for him to ask Stacy to move in with him.
Once bitten twice shy, as they say.
Still, House was sure he wanted Kitty around. Maybe it would take him two weeks this time.
They'd avoided any further conversations about Andrew Barnes. House figured they were both equally relieved about that. He wondered if he was being premature if he closed that particular file in his mind, after all, things seemed to be working out fine. Yes, they'd had to dance to Andrew Barnes' tune, but with all that had happened, House wasn't all that unhappy with how things had turned out.
However that was until House arrived at his office on Friday – the morning of the PRC fundraiser – and found another messenger envelope on his desk, identical to the one that had arrived on Monday. He picked it up quickly and opened it, cursing himself under his breath for forgetting about the previous one. He remembered putting it in his backpack and then taking it out at home. He'd probably put it on his desk there and in the drama surrounding his realisation about Andrew Barnes and Kitty's subsequent near-hypothermia it had simply been lost in the clutter. And he'd spent the past few days at her place, so he hadn't even seen it to remind him.
He tore off the strip to open the cardboard envelope and once again a single piece of paper fell out.
Kitty Brecht is a cat burglar who stole Andrew Barnes' fortune.
House frowned in disbelief at the note. The last one had been strange enough; this one barely made sense.
He shook the envelope upside down, and a gold chain fell out on to his desk. House picked it up and examined it closely. It was a fine chain, obviously good quality. Suspended from it was a charm in the shape of a small cat.
"House, are you busy this morning? I've got a twelve-year-old boy with enlarged lymph nodes and a low platelet count. I was considering ALL, but I wouldn't mind a second opinion." Wilson hadn't looked up from the file he was reviewing as he spoke. When he received no answer, he finally raised his eyes. "House?"
"I'm getting weird fan mail," House said.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, actually Kitty's getting weird fan mail, but they're sending it to me." He held out the piece of paper for Wilson to view.
Wilson scanned it quickly. "That's bizarre."
"Yeah, and it's the second one. There was one on Monday, something about her having a broken heart." House couldn't recall the words of it exactly.
"I think you should call the police."
"And say what?" House wasn't a big fan of New Jersey's finest for obvious reasons. "They'll come here, take a look at it, say 'we'll see what we can do' and then do absolutely nothing."
Wilson shook his head. "But you have to do something. Have you told Kitty?"
"No." House remembered the look on Kitty's face when she'd headed off to work that morning at some ungodly hour barely after dawn. The fundraiser was stressing her out completely. She didn't need this on top of everything. "She's busy. It can wait."
"Are you sure that's wise? If someone's making threats against her, she has a right to know."
"Yeah, but it's not exactly a threat, is it? More an accusation. And it's not true, so she really doesn't have anything to worry about."
"Hmm, maybe. I don't know House; I still think you should call the police."
House paused for a moment, considering, and then took the piece of paper out of Wilson's hand. He folded it up, grabbed the chain from his desk and stuffed them both in a drawer. "Nah. I'm sure it's just some nut-job's idea of a joke."
Wilson shook his head, clearly realising there was nothing to be gained from continuing the conversation further.
"So, what's this case you want me to look at? Got any scans?"
-
-
House spent the rest of the day on Wilson's case. He had his team running a few tests and while they did that, House jumped on the internet. He did a Google search using the words in the note he'd received that morning and also did some searching on the cat charm and chain that had been in the envelope. All he'd managed to discover was that the jewellery had probably come from Tiffany – there was a very similar cat charm on their website – but nothing further.
Around three o'clock, Cuddy appeared in his office.
"Time to go, House," she said firmly.
"Huh?" House was in the middle of two searches, one on ALL and the other on the etymology of "cat burglar" and he'd barely noticed her walk in.
"I have strict instructions to get you out of here by three-thirty. I figured it could take half an hour, so here I am."
House looked at her, confused. "Instructions? What?"
"Catherine told me you have to be at the hotel by five o'clock to go through the dress rehearsal for the proceedings tonight. She made me promise to get your ass out of here on time. You need enough time to get out of here, go home, get changed and get to the hotel. Ninety minutes should be about right – if you don't spend too long doing your hair," Cuddy teased.
House shook his head definitively. "No, I can't go. I might not even be able to go to the fundraiser. My patient is—"
"—Doing much better since we started him on the steroids." Foreman chose exactly the wrong moment, in House's opinion, to walk in with an update on the kid.
House shook his head at Cuddy. "You know that's not going to last. Every time I give a patient prednisone, they get better for a while and then it makes whatever they've got a hundred times worse. Steroids never solve it."
"Come on House." She grabbed his chair and pulled him away from his desk. House was silently impressed by her strength. "No excuses. Get out of here."
"I'll keep an eye on the patient, House, and I'll call if anything changes," Foreman offered.
"Yeah, great, thanks," House muttered. He realised that he probably didn't have any choice. And besides, if he got home early enough, he might be able to coax Kitty into a little afternoon delight before they had to leave for the hotel. And between now and then he might just be able to come up with an excuse to get himself out of it entirely. House didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt in hoping that the twelve-year-old had a sudden, dramatic relapse.
He got up and packed his backpack. He thought about it for a second, but then opened the drawer and grabbed the note and chain and stuffed them inside too.
"Good," Cuddy said, smugly satisfied as House began to walk out of his office. She walked him to the elevator and then all the way through the foyer to the front door.
"I'll see you later House, at the function. I have a feeling it's going to be a very interesting night."
Cuddy's eyes had a gleam in them that made House immediately suspicious. "Why?"
"Oh, nothing. Just, you know, you, being all Chairman-like."
House snorted. "Yeah, right."
House smiled as he walked over to the Mercedes in his disabled parking spot. He was very fond of the car. And it could go. It only took him twenty minutes to get to Kitty's place. He'd arranged for his suit to be dropped off there by the cleaners, half hoping that it might get lost on the way. But no, when he walked inside, Kitty had the stereo blaring, his suit was laid out on the bed and she was in the bathroom, singing with a slightly frantic note to her voice.
"I didn't think you'd be home," House called out over the music.
Kitty poked her head around the bathroom door and grinned. "So Lisa came through. Yey."
"Yeah, she kicked me out on your orders, good for you," House muttered, beginning to strip off his jeans.
"We haven't got long, so make it quick. The hairdresser took too long doing my hair. I'm happy with it, but it took forever and now I'm terrified of mussing it up. I have to get to the hotel by five and we have to run through the dress rehearsal. Then I have to check the seating plan and make sure the hotel has got those bloody vegetarian meals right. I swear if they don't . . ."
House tuned out to her ranting, jumping in for a quick shower while Kitty finished her make up in the bathroom mirror. She was wearing a frumpy, fluffy white bathrobe which was a ridiculous contrast to her expertly styled hair, arranged in loops and whorls all over her head, with sexy little ringlets escaping out to frame her face.
As House did up his trousers and began putting on his crisp white dress shirt he had to face the fact that it was becoming more and more unlikely that he was going to get out of this thing. And then Kitty walked into the bedroom and shrugged off her bathrobe revealing a strapless black satin bra, matching thong and black stay-up stockings that had a seam running all the way down the back of each leg. He felt his breath catch in his throat.
And he was going to have to sit with her all night knowing that was under her dress?
Kitty noticed his reaction. "Yeah, sorry, no lace today. My dress is too tight, the lines would show through."
House shook his head, one side of his mouth curling up in a grin. "Oh, I'm not disappointed. In fact, I'm thinking that before you put on that dress we should—"
Kitty held up her hand, but she was smiling. "No. Nope. No way. I have too much riding on this night to get all mussed up now – and did I tell you how long it took for them to do my hair? Believe me, I'll jump your bones with enthusiasm later, but right now I'm too stressed to even think about it."
"O-h-h." House pouted like a little kid, but finished buttoning up his shirt and then sat down on the bed to pull on his black socks.
"Can you do up my zip?" Kitty turned her side to him. She was sheathed in peacock-blue taffeta and, once the zip was done up, it hugged her tightly from breasts to mid-thigh, flaring out slightly to finish with a flourish around her ankles. When she took a step, it revealed a long split in the skirt to above her knee. The top of the dress pushed her breasts together creating an amazing cleavage that House had a sudden desire to dive into.
"You're wearing that?" House asked, his voice a little hoarse.
Kitty immediately looked panicked. "Why? What? Is there something wrong with it?" She twisted around, looking at herself from all angles.
"Oh yes, there's something wrong. I don't want anyone else looking at what I'm looking at right now."
Kitty rolled her eyes, but House could tell she was delighted by the compliment. She gave him a playful slap on the arm. "Come on, finish up getting dressed. The cab's going to be here in five minutes." She bustled around, picking up a mask covered in peacock feathers for herself and a Phantom of the Opera-style one she'd picked for House that he'd already decided he would "accidentally" lose as soon as possible. She was busy stuffing things in a tiny evening purse when House – now fully dressed – grabbed her from behind and pressed a kiss to the bare skin between her shoulder blades.
Kitty wriggled out of his grasp and turned around, clearly about to chastise him, but her breath caught as her eyes surveyed him. "Wow," she said.
House did a fake prance and a model turn at the end of the bedroom, which was made especially funny by his limp. "Pretty sexy, huh?"
"You look gorgeous. I want you all to myself. But we have to go!" The horn of a cab sounded outside. Kitty held a little plastic meds bottle out to him. "Can you put my Nitrostat in one of your pockets? It doesn't fit in my purse because I have to take my phone."
"Sure." House put the pill bottle in his inside jacket pocket; it fitted nicely next to his Vicodin.
It felt strange, stepping outside in full evening regalia while it was still light. But House tucked Kitty's hand in his elbow and led her to the taxi, opening the door for her. Perhaps there were worse things than escorting a beautiful woman to a formal dinner, he thought. Even if he did have to make a speech.
-
A/N: Okay guys, I have to admit, I'm getting a little disheartened about whether I should continue posting this story or not. A large number of people have the story on alert, but only a few dedicated readers are reviewing (and I love you guys, seriously!). Please, if you like the story, leave a review. I put a huge amount of effort into doing this and reviews make such a difference to how I feel about writing and posting.