Disclaimer: I do not own House MD or any of the characters, but I sure as hell wouldn't mind owning Hugh Laurie!

A/N: Wehey! An update +/- 24 hours after the previous one … I'm on a roll here :P So, this chapter is, uh, well, I won't spoil it for ya :P I really really like it and, well, I'll write more at the bottom … really don't wanna spoil it :P

Though I can thank you all, again (is it getting repetitive yet :P) for your lovely reviews and support :D

Enjoy!

"Uh …" started Cuddy unsure of what exactly was going on. House's blue eyes were staring deep into hers, the look on his face was something she'd never seen before, and, frankly it was something that was both thrilling and scary "House …" she semi whispered as they moved closer together.

The tension was almost palpable, they were so close, they could feel each other's breath on their faces; they were so close they could count each other's eyelashes. And yet, they were hesitating.

For Cuddy, it was too complicated. How could she kiss him and still keep the baby a secret? No matter how much of a jack ass he could be, she couldn't do that to him. But he was so close, it was so easy.

House, on the other hand knew what he wanted. He wanted to run. As fast and as far as he possibly could. What the hell was wrong with him to be expressing emotions like that? He wasn't that guy! He never had been. And yet, there he was, his lips an inch from hers, his head tilting every so slightly to the side.

His smell was intoxicating, it flooded her with memories. Memories of their college years, memories of the days after Stacy left, memories of events that had happened on that very couch barely 6 months ago. Her eyes fluttered for a minute and closed. His followed suit. It was like nothing else was going on in the world, no one else mattered. At that moment, the world could crash around them and they wouldn't care.

House's inner self seemed to be muffled for those brief moments, all that was inside him was the overwhelming need to touch her, to close the minute gap between them and let her know just how he felt. He didn't care what that meant, for once he didn't analyse the consequences, he didn't weigh out the pros and cons, he just leaned the necessary distance between them and touched his lips to hers.

It was gentle, apprehensive, almost like in slow-motion. There was the first touch, they both hesitated, each afraid of the other's response, each scared of their own response. Then he moved slightly, inching towards her, careful not to put pressure on the baby growing between them. She moved to counter him. Newton's third law. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. His head tilted to his right, hers tilted to her right. It was simple, slow and perfectly coordinated. Familiar. Safe. It was all either of them really needed, all they'd never admitted to. This time, there was no heart break behind it all, there was no anger, no frustration, no desperate need to dominate. It was patient, caring.

He was sure he was about to fall. What he was falling into however, he was unsure. In that moment, he had a decision to make. One that he could base on no reason. One that he couldn't ask Wilson to deal with. One that had to come from that organ, the one that looked nothing like it's every day representation, one that sustained life, the one that, until recently, he hadn't realised he had.

She leaned further in. His lower lip trapped between hers. His hand resting on her side, pulling her slightly towards him. There was a sound. Neither of them knew where from. Neither of them cared. And another, this time in was House. A low sound. One that indicated pleasure, want and need. One that Cuddy gladly returned.

The gentleness remained but passion joined it. It wasn't tentative anymore, it wasn't apprehensive or testing. It was bold, sure and easy. Necessary. Calming. Reassuring.

And finally, there was that feeling in the chest. The one that signalled another biological need, another of the 7 functions of life. Respiration. Air. Oxygen. They broke apart. Eyes remaining closed. Noses still touching. Hearts racing, breaths shallow and quick. The baby kicking frantically. Eyes opened. Blue. Grey. Dark.

"Ah …" it was just a gasp. Neither sure who from.

They both wanted to speak. They both wanted to say so much. Or so little. But they couldn't. They didn't know how.

House could swear he heard her call him by his name. Greg. It sounded so good. So freeing. He wanted to use hers. Lisa. Lise. But he couldn't. That strong part of him was there again. The pain was radiating from his leg again. The Vicodin in his pocket were almost vibrating, drawing all his attention.

"I …" he started, it was as much as he'd ever gotten out.

Cuddy just nodded. Partly because she knew. Partly because she couldn't hear him say it. She wanted to hear it. She wanted to say it herself. But she couldn't. She knew what a big step in was for him. She couldn't do it to him. She couldn't let him say it, make himself vulnerable. Not when she couldn't be honest with him.

Tell him

It would solve all the problems. She knew that if he let it out, if he said it, he'd be open, he'd be different. All she had to do was tell him. It was less than ten words. But it had been six months. He'd be angry, he'd hate her. He'd … She thought back to his words. He didn't think she'd be a good mom. He didn't want a baby and he probably didn't want one with her either. She loved him. So much. But she had to protect herself. She had to be stronger than the need and desire. If not for herself, for the fragile life he'd helped her create.

It was getting harder and harder to fight himself off. Greg wanted to tell her. House wanted to kill Greg. Greg wanted his baby, he wanted to be to that little life everything his father hadn't been to him. House, still, wanted to kill Greg.

Unable to win, Greg gave in. House reached in his pocket. Vicodin.

The part of himself that cared, that tiny part that kept trying to surface, saw the hurt in her eyes as she saw him return to normal, as she saw House re-emerge. She hid it well, but he saw it.

The Vicodin felt sharp against his throat. It hurt. But not as much as his leg. Not as much as watching her walk away and into the bathroom. But no one looking at him could tell. His face was as typical as ever, the glint in his eyes, the half smirk on his lips.

She'd been so close. She had almost felt his defences breaking. But he was too strong. His fear of opening up, he need for safety were bigger than whatever part of him had made him lean in. And so Cuddy cried. She cried because she wanted that little part to win. She wanted to help it win. She cried because she knew he'd never let her.

TBC

Yea, so it is a little bit of a different style, but I really like it. And, yes, I know, I'm very evil to give you what you want and promptly take it away, but hey, "as the philosopher Jagger once said, 'you can't always get what you want'" :P (and I'm quoting House …) I hope you enjoyed that as much as I enjoyed writing it. Not to worry, it will continue as soon as I can get down and write some of these ideas that are currently floating around my brain.

Thank you for reading!

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CJS-DEPPendent