A/N-Thank you to all of the reviewers of the last chapter: JLCH, BabalooBlue, OldSFfan, jaybe61, JM, IHeartHouseCuddy, ikissedtheLaurie, Huddylovelover, Abby, lenasti16, linda12344, HuddyGirl, Alex, freeasabird14, LoveMyHouse, housebound, housefan, HuddyAleja, bere, Boo's House, A, MrsBock, Jane Q. Doe, the Guest reviewers, grouchysnarky, dmarchl21, Lapiz Silkwood, and somebadhat.

I'm sorry I'm not posting more frequently, if I could find the time if I would. I promise, I'm not holding out. This is sort of long, but I didn't know where to break it. Again, I appreciate your patience. I'm planning on continuing this story a bit longer.

-Answers-

By Thursday morning, House had already put his plan into motion. Going to see Cuddy at a conference seemed the ideal next step. Part of it almost felt like a chance for redemption after the last conference they'd attended. In some ways, it was like a case that he'd replayed in his mind a hundred times, trying to figure out how he could have arranged a more favorable outcome. He tried not to think too much about what he'd do if she hadn't ended it with Lucas, but the thought was persistent. Life consistently taught him that hope was the alluring predecessor of disappointment. There was one fact that punctuated his concern: he hadn't heard from Cuddy since she left Wilson's apartment.

Before Wilson went to work that Thursday, he stopped in House's room. "I just don't understand what silence is supposed to accomplish. Is this really the best time for games?"

House looked up from the bag he was packing, "I took the hint, I'm going to DC."

"Is that really the best idea? Since she left here, you've done nothing but ignore her. I'm not even sure if she wants you to show up."

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"When she asked me last night if you were alright…I figured you needed some time. But she just called me. The least you could do is answer a text or one damn phone call. I think she was worried about you, worried that maybe you got shitfaced and broke into someone's apartment again. I just don't understand why you're doing this. Unless…unless you really don't want to be happy."

House shook his head with displeased confusion, "I'm not quite sure why this joke is supposed to be funny."

"Just be an adult. Tell her you don't want her. I heard she broke up with Lucas. I don't know if she'll want to try to fix things with him or find someone new, but…let her go."

"She broke up with him?" House asked, cautiously relieved but still disoriented.

"Yea."

"If she would have called or sent a text, I would have answered it."

"She called you…more than once."

Something dawned on House, so he went to his dresser and picked up his phone, looking down at a complete lack of messages, missed calls or voicemail alerts. "Call my phone."

Wilson was at first incredulous and then uncertain, but he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed. House's phone never rang and never went to voicemail. Wilson sent a text, and House's phone did nothing. "Probably Lucas," House commented flatly.

"How?"

"I've seen him transfer numbers before. If he transfers my number to a phone he has, he gets my calls."

"You need to go. Go explain."

House picked up his bag, moving on instinct rather than any careful plan. "What did she say?"

"Just that she tried to call you and she was concerned. I may have…tried to fish for answers about Lucas. She mentioned that they are no longer seeing each other, but she wasn't exactly generous with details."

First grabbing his cane and bag, House headed for the door. He stopped for a moment, turning back to Wilson, "How angry did she sound? Clenching jaw angry? Mildly annoyed angry?"

After recalling the earlier conversation, Wilson answered, "She didn't sound angry. She sounded sad, disappointed. I told her you seemed fine when I saw you, and she said she was glad you were OK."

Before the words evaporated from the air, House was leaving for DC.

The nearly four hour drive was an irritating impediment. It seemed comically tragic, to be so close to something only to watch it slip away. He wasn't even entirely sure if she'd give him time to explain.

When he walked into the hotel, he saw her almost immediately. She was sitting on a sofa in the lobby, her luggage next to her. House guessed that she was waiting for her room to become available. The thought of approaching her made him far more nervous than he liked. He could feel his body's alert readiness while he drew closer, and then he stopped dead in his tracks. His hope sunk down into the ground when he saw Lucas walk in and take a seat directly in front of Cuddy.

Cuddy reached out, taking one of Lucas' hands between hers. The sight was almost crushing until House saw Cuddy slowly shake her head. She offered a steady explanation, but the expression on Lucas' face was telling. When he began to counter whatever she had said, Cuddy held her hands up, unwavering in her denial. The conversation went on for several minutes. Once it was clear what was happening, House moved to a less conspicuous spot and waited until Lucas finally stood, said a few more parting words, and left the lobby.

Once she was alone, House decided to make his presence known, wondering if she would dispatch of him as quickly as she had dismissed Lucas. An attendant from the hotel approached her, politely turning over a key card and gesturing for the elevator before he took her luggage. House paused before following, realizing that he didn't want to make it too easy for her to retreat into her room and lock the door before he had a chance to explain.

He waited until well after the conference had begun, and with four name tags unclaimed by the rightful attendees, House elected to impersonate Dr. Parker De Vers. He shuffled through the conference handouts, looking for the meeting room where he would find Cuddy. She was one of the main speakers, there to discuss her hospital's innovative pandemic response plan.

Her session was held in a large ballroom where hundreds of participants gathered to listen. House took a spot near the back. There was a sense of pride in him as he listened to what she had accomplished. She had often asked him for his input about her pandemic response plan, but he diligently avoided involvement every time she brought it up to him. Apparently, her plan was determined to be one of the best in the country.

His sense of pride soon became a sense of boredom, because she was scheduled to speak for over an hour, but after the planned part of her speech, there was an hour long question-and-answer session. Even after that part of the meeting was over, Cuddy offered to remain behind for anyone who had any questions that weren't already answered. House's patience was definitely reaching its end when he saw eight people gather at the front to talk to her.

There was a momentary thought of mentioning that he had tons of questions that weren't answered in her presentation, but he decided that probably wasn't the best way to get a favorable reaction. When there was only one person left to speak to Cuddy, House walked over to the piano in the front corner of the room, and began to play "Happy Birthday," the same song they had played together. He played as simply as possible, using only one hand. Cuddy finally turned and acknowledged his presence without a scowl or smile to let him know where he stood.

He continued to play until the last person was leaving, and Cuddy began gathering her presentation materials. "Care to join me?" he called loudly across the space.

"No thanks," she answered curtly.

"Looks like you were a hit."

"It went well," she said without turning away from her duties.

He began walking toward the stage, "I didn't want to wait until tomorrow night to talk to you."

She turned, making an obvious attempt to remain cool, "You won. Good job, House."

"This doesn't feel like winning."

"It's what you wanted. I fell for it. I dumped Lucas. I wanted you. What else do you want? You want a photograph to commemorate the moment? Or the key to my chastity belt?"

"A chastity belt would definitely not be my first choice."

She picked up handouts, standing them up so she could align them. The sound of the paper tapping the table was her only response.

"Wilson said you were trying to reach me," he continued when he realized his attempt at levity was not only ignored, but it was making things worse.

"Yea. I was. I tried calling you right after I spoke to Lucas. I didn't want you to be waiting for an answer. I felt that was unfair," she said, more angrily. "And then you decided you weren't speaking to me. You couldn't tell me you were alright so I didn't have to worry. So I didn't have to ask Wilson if you were alive. I was really worried that something happened to you…that maybe it had to do with me."

"Why not go back to Lucas then…after you realized that I wasn't answering?"

"Go back?" she scoffed with thorough irritation.

"Yea. He'd take you back."

She dropped her materials on the table, looking directly at House. Her voice was one step below yelling, "I realized that if I was willing to leave him to be with someone else…he wasn't who I wanted anyway. I'd rather be alone than settle for someone. I'm fine with being alone. I guess I should thank you for helping me realize that."

"Call my phone."

"No. I don't want to play today."

"Call it." He held his phone out, face up in his palm while she reluctantly went to her purse to dig out her cell. She dialed and looked down at his hand when she didn't hear a ring.

"You broke your phone to avoid talking to me?"

"I think Lucas had the number transferred to a different phone."

She quietly contemplated.

"He's done it before, I've seen him," House added.

She finally nodded her agreement, "He's mentioned doing that. You weren't avoiding me?"

"No. I was waiting to hear from you. Then I didn't see you at the hospital."

"Yesterday was crazy. I left early to get everything ready for Rachel."

"You could have tried reaching me other ways."

"If you didn't want to talk to me it seemed pointless to chase you down. Wilson said you were fine, so I let it go. And you could have called me."

"I was trying to give you space to get everything in order. I should have gone with my gut and followed you home. This is what I get for doing what you tell me to do instead of what I want to do. Remember this, my lack of ability to take direction is a good thing." She exhaled a subtle chuckle, but didn't respond, so he asked, "What were you going to tell me…if I would have answered when you called?"

"About what happened. Lucas and I talked for a long time. I told him that I didn't feel like it was working out. He asked if it had anything to do with you. I told him that I wanted to end it no matter what happened with you. But I also admitted that I had feelings for you and I thought you might have feelings for me."

"I'm good with all of that," he nodded with a hint of victory.

"He actually came down here to talk. I thought it was sweet…until I found out that he messed with your phone number and was probably trying to manipulate me."

"But you still didn't take him back."

"I made my decision."

"In a way, you got to dump him twice."

"It wasn't like that."

"It was. Don't fuck with my enjoyment of this moment."

She smiled reluctantly, her eyes dropping down for a second before meeting his. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the area and I'm really concerned about Princeton-Plainsboro's pandemic readiness. Apparently you have that under control."

"Looks like."

"Maybe I can talk you into a post-presentation drink? I am one of the audience members with many unanswered questions."

Gathering her things in her arms, she descended from the stage and stood next to him, "I don't want to carry my conference stuff around."

House signaled to a hotel employee who was beginning to move chairs for the next event. When the young man approached, House asked, "Could you make sure her things and my bag make it up to room—"

Cuddy smirked at the attempt to find her room number, "913."

"Room 913?"

The employee shook his head, "I'm not part of guest services, I'm part of dining. There's a dinner here this evening we have to get ready for."

Digging in his pocket, House produced a generous monetary incentive, handed it to the young man and asked, "Is there any way you could find the time?"

In the next breath, House's money was accepted and their things were being taken to her room. They walked toward the hotel bar, finding many of the conference attendees gathered there. Cuddy could scarcely take a step without someone introducing themselves or asking for her input. She noticed as she inched closer to the bar between interruptions that House had disappeared.

She was politely trying to leave a conversation that she couldn't seem to end when she heard House's voice, "Dr. Cuddy? I'm Parker De Vers. You were supposed to be in a meeting with me nearly fifteen minutes ago."

Cuddy's surprise worked well as embarrassment, "I sincerely apologize," she said, trying not to smirk at him, "I must have lost track of time."

"You're Parker De Vers?" one of the doctors who was previously occupying Cuddy's time asked.

"Good to meet you," House responded, the look of courteous professionalism almost more out of place than Cuddy could stand. "I'm sorry, I really need to meet with Dr. Cuddy."

"Sure, be my guest," the infringing doctor replied with a great deal of confusion.

"What's his problem?" House asked Cuddy while they made their retreat.

"I think he was a little confused."

"About?"

Cuddy guided him to a spot across from the registration tables and pointed at a very angry person waiting there.

"That," Cuddy explained, "is the real Parker De Vers. She speaks at many conferences. People know her."

House looked at the rather elegant-looking, tall blond who was trying to negotiate her entry into the conference. "Wow…I have great legs," he commented matter-of-factly.

"They won't quit," Cuddy concurred. "Give me the name badge."

"How can I attend sessions and learn important things?" he whined, "I was dying to network with my colleagues."

"Do you really want to have dinner with a bunch of doctors and talk about medicine, or do you want to order room service and eat upstairs?"

"With you?"

"I'm not sure if I'd trust you alone in my room with my stuff," she jabbed, "so yea, I'll join you."

"You're not going to skip work-related activities."

"I didn't sign up for any. I only came here to give my presentation and have an evening away from everything. But we can go learn about…," she paused while she looked at the conference sign nearest them, "'How a Smile Can Reduce Malpractice Suits.' Then we can have dinner with people who want to talk to me about stuff that you can't stand being bothered with. Sounds fun!"

He immediately pulled off the name tag and held it out to her. Cuddy delivered the pilfered item to the real Dr. De Vers, who seemed relieved to have it but still concerned about what had actually happened. Cuddy made her way back to House, taking his arm and cautioning as they stepped on the elevator, "We better get out of here and lay low tonight. She was really upset, going off about you impersonating a doctor."

"I am a doctor."

"You're not that doctor. And I don't think that would make her feel any better." House reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a fifth of scotch while she spoke, "Where did you get that?"

"Bartender. I can tell you don't do this often."

"A whole fifth, smartass?" she asked as she took it from his hand and enjoyed a hefty sip.

"Just in case we didn't make it back to the bar."

"Just in case?" she smirked cockily. "Do you have your own room?"

"913?" he asked instead of answered.

"My room? Kind of presumptuous."

"Optimistic," he corrected.

They stepped off the elevator and walked toward Cuddy's room. It was nice, not a suite, but somewhat luxurious and certainly comfortable. House went to the patio doors, sliding them open and walking outside as she followed. The courtyard was below their room, with neatly trimmed shrubs decorated with tiny white lights. It was a beautiful sight from the ninth floor. Occasional notes could be heard from music being played somewhere in the hotel, but not enough for them to determine the song.

As they gazed down into the courtyard, walls colored by the dusky sun, Cuddy mentioned, "Two conferences in a year…isn't that a record for you?"

"I attended both of them to get to you, so I'm not sure if it counts. But, if I would have had my way," he said as he faced her, "we would have danced to more than one song the last time. And you wouldn't have left after I told you the truth."

Cuddy was avoiding his eyes for the moment, "You took me completely off-guard, and I had no idea what to do about it."

Pulling her toward him, he wrapped one arm around her, "But you know what to do about it now?"

"Yea."

He held her close as they danced informally, and then added, "So in case your memory of the last conference is less than perfect, I told you that I've had a thing for you since I met you. I also mentioned that, until everything fell apart, I wanted to know if there could be something between us. You didn't really respond to that."

"I've wondered about that so many times."

"See now that would have been a much better answer."

Cuddy lifted on her toes, gently settling her lips against his before she lowered back down to the ground. Her expression was amorous to say the least, waking his body and mind to the possibility that he was on her balcony, she was available, and she was the one closing the space between them. She lifted her chin toward him again, suggesting a response. He moved similarly in consent, his one hand covering the center of her back as they neared.

As soon as their lips met again, the kiss deepened. Their bodies pressed closely together, conforming to each other's shape. They relied on quickly stolen breaths as they kissed, since parting seemed an impossible prospect. There was a whistle from some other balcony, enough to remind her that their spot wasn't as private as it seemed. "Come inside," she whispered, provoking the tightening grip of his hands.

He stepped into the room with her, immediately tasting the skin at the meeting of her neck and shoulder, moving along the dip to her collarbone. Without turning, she reached out, her fingers fumbling blindly for the door handle and making an attempt to close it. She started wriggling out of her jacket while trying to close the curtain over the door. It wouldn't slide shut, so she separated from him, "Just a second."

Watching her as she went to the curtain and began adjusting the pull chain, he couldn't get over the slightly stunned feeling that something was actually happening between them. He was convinced that at some point, he'd wake from a dream to see his desk or empty bedroom.

House came up beside her, leaning against the back of a chair as he watched. His hands surrounded her waist and guided her back toward him. Slipping his fingers under her shirt to feel the smoothness of her skin, he asked, lightly, "Do you know how much I want this?"

She giggled softly while she turned in his arms, "Your hand up my shirt?"

"Among other things," he answered deeply, his eyes slipping playfully along her face before he lifted her shirt over her head.

When it took him too long to continue, she reached for him, removing his jacket and shirt, and feeling the heat of his body against her skin.

With feather-like delicateness, her fingers traced each of his shoulders, sliding down with nearly weightless exploration. She followed over the flat surface of his breastbone and down his stomach so she could open his belt. After his jeans were gone, she stepped one foot between his, the entire length of her thigh pressing against his leg. Their limbs were partially entwined, sending quick images through his mind that existed in near virtual reality where all of his senses seemed alerted to exactly what she was going to feel like.

Pulling her by the hips while he sat on the coffee table, he only allowed her skirt to descend once he was seated. His hands smoothed over her thighs, feeling the subtle but undeniable contours of muscle. He had so often imagined finding himself between those very thighs. He'd fantasized about wrapping her legs around his hips or neck as he pumped inside her, daydreamed about being close enough to taste her wetness, or visualized his fingers disappearing into the warmth of her body.

He kissed each of her hips as he helped her undress. His mouth hovered in front of a nipple for a second before his tongue soothed over it and he pulled it into his mouth, sucking greedily.

He certainly wasn't gentle, but then she wasn't hoping for gentle. She wanted the urgency of him, the gruffness, the unrelenting man who had chased her. She wanted to be taken, loved, fucked by this man. The meticulousness of his attention couldn't be mistaken for indifference or patience, the desire was in his eyes, that deep craving that seemed so much more intense since he was clean.

Lowering his head, his tongue dove between the folds of her sex. He didn't allow her legs to open any more than they were, because his hands were still on her outer thighs, intentionally limiting the contact. All that she could feel was the slippery dart of his tongue, and then the way that the tip of it would curl up against her before leaving. Although her legs couldn't open very far, her hips could tip forward, and they did, although so subtly that she didn't even realize that she was moving in time with him.

She grabbed his hands from her hips, linking her fingers through his before she straddled his lap. She wanted him to be inside her when she came. She wanted to feel the sensations that she had been longing for since they'd played the organ in Wilson's apartment.

Her hands surrounded the thickness of his erection for only a moment before he grabbed them in the same interlocked way that she had held his. Neither of them wanted foreplay anymore, he craved the sensation of their meeting bodies as much as she did. She moved against him, not yet allowing him inside her, but letting him feel the warmth of being against her sex.

Her efforts to drive him crazy with desire were backfiring, because the fat tip of his cock was rubbing and bumping against her in a way that was still pushing her closer to orgasm. When she lifted, she looked down between them, hovering her body above him like an offering. He let go of her hand for a moment to guide himself into her because he didn't want a hesitant or clumsy attempt. He wanted to plunge into her.

She seemed to have the same desire, her legs wrapping around him, the heels of her feet resting on the table behind his back. Gravity and the decisive motions they each made drove him into her. Her mouth gaped open when the need to be fucked felt like it was finally being met. Her eyes focused on his, seeing his gaze lifted softly up toward the ceiling while he slowly exhaled. The man was overcome, in need of being taken by the very thing he wanted to take for himself.

They were moving consciously, allowing their bodies to merge and meld before the friction of departure and the hungry return to unity. This smooth, erotic dance was hard to maintain as patience grew weary. Grabbing onto her ass, his coordination of their movements became more fervent, more raw in its desperation.

He lifted her, moving onto the floor before he rolled her under him. And then they started really fucking, every move unfiltered and honest. She didn't even seem to slowly peak, her orgasm gripped her with a suddenly bolt of pleasure that made her cry out, her fingers digging into his sides and back or wherever they seemed to touch while her hips kept crashing against his. The sounds of her, that hint of his name in her scream, the grip of her body and the scratch of her nails cost him what control his mind still had, allowing instinct and the urge to chase pleasure govern him. He came with the same demanding, sudden, gripping type of orgasm, continuing to move until the energy that kept them going seemed to drain entirely.

When the disorientation that comes from mind-blowing sex faded, they came back to their present moment, finding the same caresses and lingering kisses that were there when they had begun. Both of them wanted to remain where they were, but it became too uncomfortable to stay on the rough carpet.

They stood, stretching a bit as they tried to realign themselves. House seemed to suddenly realize, "I am so hungry."

Cuddy sort of laughed, "That's the first thing you say to me after sex? I'm touched."

"I didn't eat today. So dinner? Unless you're making me leave."

"Definitely not making you leave. Order something, charge it to the room."

"Where are you going?"

"Before we eat, I'm going to shower," she said, kissing him quickly before she disappeared.

He started to look over the menu when he realized what he was missing. He hurriedly called down an order, specifying the time when he wanted it delivered.

The bathroom was as nice as the rest of the room, with a large walk-in shower and a separate tub. Sitting down on the bench at the back of the spacious shower, he kicked his feet out in front of him, leaned back, folded his hands over his stomach and watched her. Cuddy was washing her hair, so with her eyes screwed shut she asked, "Is that you?"

"It's room service," House answered, "the guy with the limp told me I could watch you shower in exchange for food."

She managed to clear most of the water away from her face, and peered at him through squinted eyes. "I'm so happy he's willing to sell me for food," she wryly answered, continuing her shower without kicking him out or covering herself in anyway.

He started to spout off a list. "That was amazing. You're the hottest woman ever. Wow…," she cocked her head, uncertain as to why he was rattling off these things like he was reading a catalog. "The list of things you would have rather heard after sex instead of 'I'm so hungry,'" he explained before he continued his recitation, "Can I stay? Thanks for picking me, hope you don't regret it."

"You were the only choice I wanted to make," she interrupted, walking across the stone-colored tiles toward where he sat.

When she reached out for his hand, he took it, stepping under the hot, forceful spray from the shower head. While he touched her slick, soapy body, he asked, "So, can I stay?"

"Stay," she sighed, moving to facilitate each of his new touches before she remembered, "Wait. Food. When are they coming up?"

He leaned, licking along a rivulet of water that streamed from her neck to her breast, "An hour. I didn't want to miss the shower."

She slung her arms around his neck, and added seductively, "I'll do my best to help you pass the time."