I'm sorry about the major delay in updating. My editor has had some personal struggles lately,and is no longer able to help me with this project. Then I found I'm pregant, and all things fandom got pushed to the back burner for a while. That said, I know I'm not going to get around to editing the rest of the story so I decided to post the rest of it as is. Please excuse any errors you find. As always I love feedback, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story. There are about 10 more chapters, and I'll make sure to note the last one as final.

Thanks for reading,

Raven

TITLE: Chapter 13 Waffles

AUTHOR: new_raven

PAIRING: none yet

RATING: R

WARNINGS: Dirty

SUMMARY: Chris finds out about House's Russian bride.

DISCLAIMER: House and his pretty friends don't belong to me.

SOUNDTRACK:

Dominika had come to House's office, when she discovered that her key didn't work in the door to his apartment. Wilson and House's team had gathered to watch the show, as House explained to his bride, who he hadn't seen in months, that she wasn't keeping up her end of the bargain.

"The papers have already been filed." House said.

"Both parties have to present for an annulment." Wilson pointed out.

"Yeah I know," House scowled at him, "but she didn't need to. It doesn't matter it's already done."

"How?" Wilson asked.

"It turns out hookers will do almost anything for money. Even forge signatures."

Wilson pressed his hand to his brow as Chris walked into the room. She'd heard enough to get the gist of the situation, but she had to ask, to make sure they weren't doing some kind of improv therapy or rehearsing a play. She didn't look at House, but walked directly up to Dominika. She pointed at the Russian beauty. "Are you his wife?" She pointed to House without looking at him.

"Yes, this is my husband." The girl answered, and worked up a theatrical sob.

Now Chris turned to House and snarled, "You're married?"

"It's not…" House didn't bother trying to finish as Chris fumed.

"Married! I… I" She curled her fingers into fists, and clenched them at her sides. "I made you waffles!"

The spectators exchanged confused looks.

"Calm down, she's never even made me a Poptart." He nodded to Domika.

"What?" Chris asked.

"It was a domestic arrangement…"

Understanding briefly replaced the anger on Chris's face. "You're maid quit? I can't believe you!"

"It doesn't matter. I got an…."

"It matters! I don't care what your vows mean to you. I get to decide if I want to have… WAFFLES with a married man!"

House was silent.

"It was her milk wasn't it?" Chris accused.

House nodded. "Yeah."

Chris took a deep breath but it didn't help. "And Wilson's waffle iron, the syrup, were those hers too?"

"No, those are really Wilson's" The team turned to Wilson, who raised his arms as if surrendering and shook his head.

"I… I don't even care." Chris stormed out of the room and then turned on her heel and marched right up to House's chair pointing at him. "Don't you dare get that girl deported on account of MY waffles." She pointed to Dominika, who was paying too much attention to them, to fake her tears for the moment.

"Your waffles are good, but they're not that good." House replied.

Chris grabbed the first thing she saw, a green file folder on his desk, and smacked him over the head with it. When he covered his head she got a few more smacks in on his shoulders before throwing the whole file at him. On her way out the door she turned to Dominika. The girl backed away from her, and Wilson and Foreman both prepared to pull them apart.

"Make him divorce you. You deserve compensation." Chris told the girl.

She walked out without another glance at any of them. They were all silent for a moment. Dominika stood pouting, and the team waited for an explanation or a dismissal.

"Do I want to know what 'waffle iron' is a euphemism for?" Wilson asked.

"Oh get your mind out of the gutter. It's just a waffle iron."

"Wait you have my waffle iron? I told you I got a new one, because I lost mine."

"I assumed you didn't need the old one at that point."

"That was my mother's waffle iron." Wilson rolled his eyes.

"Don't you people have anything better to do?" House growled at everyone in the room.

"Don't you think you should go after her?" Wilson asked.

"You think I'm crazy? She'll be on the roof and I can't get there without a blunt object. With her family history of violent…" House was sifting through pile of mail on his desk, looking for some reason to end this conversation, when he paused.

"What?" Wilson tried to look at the envelope House was tearing open.

"It's official. You're free." House handed the document to his former bride. "Or you would be, if you'd been born in a free country."

He snatched the paper from her fingers and walked out. Dominika began to wail, but no one paid her much attention. House made his way to the roof, where Chris was chain smoking, just as he had predicted.

"Not now House." Chris's voice was calm now. Her face was puffy and her eyeliner was smudged under her eyes and down one cheek. House didn't speak but handed her the form.

"What is this?"

"Proof of annulment, and it's dated two days before we had sex."

"That's just swell." She handed it back to him.

"I wasn't married." House reasoned.

"That's not the point!"

"Then what was all that yelling about?"

"I don't care if you're married. I mean, I do care, but I could have gotten past a fake marriage, if you had just told me about it."

"It never came up. I didn't think it mattered."

"Sadly, I believe that, but you still lied." She stubbed her unfinished cigarette out. If he wouldn't leave she would.

"Everybody lies. I lied to protect you."

"Oh bullshit!" She railed on him. "You lied to protect yourself, so you wouldn't have this conversation."

House didn't respond. The conversation was turning. She was talking about his lies, but he knew she was thinking about something else.

"It doesn't matter House. We had fun. I should have known better."

"You're not allowed to have fun?"

"It's not the fun it's…" She took a deep breath. "It's stupid. If I don't do anything stupid nothing bad happens."

"Life doesn't work that way." So that was it. Survivors guilt was not her best look. She was being completely irrational. The rational response to him lying about being married was not guilt.

"How do you know? Have you ever stopped doing stupid crap long enough to see if it makes life easier?" She knew she sounded like a child, a stupid child at that, but it was true. When she only did what she was supposed to do life was easier, maybe not better or more fun, but definitely easier. She'd let him in anyways, and he hurt her. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. "You are the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"I did go to Hopkins." House said.

"Don't make me laugh." She bit back a smile. "You're fifty. I'm twenty one. When I'm ready to settle down you'll be retiring."

"You'll be younger than I am now when I die." House nodded.

"Exactly," she thought she might cry again when he put it that way. "There's no way this could end well."

"Relationships never end well." House countered. "Someone dies. Someone cheats. Someone…"

"Marries a Russian skank so she can get a green card?" Chris offered.

"Yes." House nodded. "Best case scenario: both parties are so miserable, for so long, that they agree to go their separate ways without a fight."

Chris swallowed as she processed his words and then smiled ever so slightly. "That's your argument for us being together? All relationships suck?"

"If you judge a relationship solely on how it ends, then yes"

"That's a terrible argument." She laughed. It was terrible, but it was true, and if she was going be stupid and get hurt, she might as well do it with him. How was it that even though he always said the wrong thing, he somehow managed to say what she needed to hear?

"You're laughing." House was trying to follow her mood swings.

"I think your argument worked."

"You think?" He moved towards her cautiously.

She let him put his arm around her waist and pull her against his chest. "You're not getting waffles any times soon, but I might let you make it up to me."

"I know how you can make it up to me." Chris poked her head inside House's office to gage his mood.

"Oral sex?" He grinned up at her from his desk.

"You wish." She came in, and sat in one of the chairs across from Him. "Will you take me to see my mom? It's not that far, but the buses only go out there twice a day. If I have to stay at the psych ward for ten hours, they'll probably just keep me."

"Why me?" House asked.

"Because you're in the dog house, and you could use the brownie points? I just thought that…"

"I'll take you," House cut her off, "but you could have just asked to borrow my car or money for a cab. You could have asked Wilson. He loves this kind of crap. Why do you want me there?"

"Can I borrow your car then?" She deflected.

"No."

"Money?"

House didn't even bother responding to this.

"It's going to be bad. I don't know what they're doing up there, but she won't even come to the phone anymore." She sighed. "I'd rather go alone, but since I have to get a ride from someone, I'd like it to be you."

"Because we're sleeping together?"

"No, because you're emotionally retarded." She explained. "You won't try to be comforting. I won't have to pretend to be comforted. If we took the bike we wouldn't even have to talk at all."

House nodded.

She showed up at his apartment on Saturday afternoon, even though he'd offered to pick her up. They chatted easily on the ride up. House had brought a variety of entertainment. Chris brought several cases of Pepsi and an extra pack of cigarettes. She insisted that he didn't have to wait there whole time, but was pretty sure he would anyways.

She came out of the building almost exactly two hours after she went in. House was leaning against the side of the car, smoking one of her cigarettes, and watching his portable TV. She took the cigarette from him and took a drag.

"Terrible reception." House said, referring to the little TV, as he tried to read her almost blank, hard expression.

"You didn't have to wait here." She took another drag.

"I thought I should be here in case you wanted to leave early."

She gave a week smile that made her face somehow sadder than before. She stepped into him and kissed him hard. After a moment she took the TV from his hands and tossed it into the open car window.

She took his face in her hands and kissed him over and over. House put his arms around and kissed her back, without attempting to keep her frantic pace.

"Let's go somewhere." She kissed his neck and nibbled his ear. "Anywhere I can get you inside me."

"My place?" He offered.

She shook her head and pressed her body against his, still kissing him. "Too far."

"Car sex doesn't really do it for me."

"Just get in, I'll do all the work." She pressed her hand against his crotch and smiled up at him.

He moved her hand and looked up at the building. "You've overshot a little. This is more sad and desperate than hot."

She stepped back and stammered. "Ok, I'll go somewhere else next time I'm horny."

"You're not horny. You're sad. You just don't want to feel what you're feeling."

"Um yeah, that's pretty much the foundation of this relationship." She got in the car and slammed the door.

House got in and started the engine. They rode in heavy silence for about twenty minutes.

"You were right. She's better there. She looks better. They said she's eating better and sleeping better."

"That's a good thing right?" House asked.

"Yes but… she didn't need me."

"She'll always need you."

"No, I can't do anything for her." Chris shook her head. "If I had just gotten her help… maybe she…"

"You did everything you could."

"No, I didn't. I lied to her doctors and the caseworkers. I didn't want her locked up. I thought I was helping, but I just didn't want to be alone. She killed a man and they will never let her out, because I didn't want to be alone."

There was a long pause before House finally asked, "Is there anything that's not your fault? Did you shoot JFK?"

"I am not being overdramatic here. I am rationally aware of the limited amount of power I hold over reality, but I started it. If I hadn't been sneaking out my sister wouldn't have died. If I had…"

"If you're sister had stayed home, if your mom had locked you in your room, if a bunch of gangbangers hadn't brutally attacked both of you, then she wouldn't have died."

"Too far House." Chris swallowed. Her eyes were boring a hole through the dashboard.

"If your mom had kept her at home the day she went into labor …"

"She was working. She's a single mom. Sarah was just a kid. A kid should never have to make that kind of decision."

"You were just a kid. Why is your bad decision worse than hers?"

"Because I'm alive!" She shouted as the tears rolled down her face.

After a few moments House broke the silence. "Do you want Chinese?"

"What?" She hissed.

"Do You Want Chinese Food?" House over-annunciated each word. "I'm going to call in an order and pick it up on the way home."

"Sure, I…" She groped for words and finally just sighed. "You're such an ass."

House handed her his phone. "Basil chicken extra spicy, two egg rolls and whatever you want. It's under Mr. Chopsticks. I've got cash."

Chris just looked at him with a blank face.

"What? I'm driving."

After picking up dinner they went back to his place. House spread the food across the coffee table and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels a while before stopping on Mythbusters rerun. Chris focused all of her brain on the show and her sesame chicken. She didn't have enough energy left to be angry. When her carton was empty she set it on the table and lit a cigarette.

"Are you staying?" House asked.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"If I didn't want you here I would already know that you weren't staying."

"I'd hate to seem sad and desperate." She pursed her lips.

"I never said I wouldn't sleep with you. I just wasn't willing to get arrested for it."

Chris's chest was tight with frustration. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of staying, but she wanted to leave even less. She waited until her cigarette was gone and then kicked of her shoes. House smiled to himself.

After a few minutes she stretched her legs out across the couch and tapped his leg with her toe. House looked down at her socked foot and then up at her. She kept her eyes on the screen. At the next commercial she tapped him again.

"Yes?"

"Come here." She beckoned with her finger.

One of her legs hung off of the couch and the other was against the back cushion, leaving ample room between her thighs. House smiled and scooted towards her. He lay back with his head against her chest. One of his hands rested on her knee and the other held the remote. She ran her fingers through his hair and rubbed lazy circles into his neck and shoulders.

"So…" Chris knew there was no right way to say this. "How sexually active have you been since um… Leg Girl."

"Leg Girl?" House repeated.

"You never told me her name."

"Stacy." House told her.

"Leg girl is less threatening."

"She's not a threat." He said.

"Ok." She didn't believe him even a little. "Anyways, I know of a couple since her, but I assume there must be others. You're wife for instance, but were there a lot? Were they one night stands? Where you safe? I know you're a doctor and all, but still."

"Mostly hookers."

Chris laughed but House didn't. "Wait, you're serious, hookers? Why would you? You can go to any bar and find ten women who would do you, just because you're a straight, single doctor."

"I'd have to talk to them."

"You talk to me… sort of."

House laughed.

"Do you test monthly? I mean hookers are… hookers."

"I get tested often. I always use a condom."

"Condoms break."

"It's the same risk as meeting someone in a bar."

"I highly doubt that it's statistically an equal risk."

"What about you? Were you safe two years ago? Have you been tested?"

"Every six months, when I re-up the birth control, and yeah mostly. We were both clean. We didn't see the point of condoms for oral and anal, but.."

House's face lit up like a child seeing snow for the first time. He twisted his neck to look her in the eye. "Anal?"

"Yeah," she laughed at him. "It was a suitable alternative."

"You were that worried about getting pregnant?" That wouldn't surprise him, she still insisted on at least two forms of birth control and often added a diaphragm and spermicidal jelly if she could wait that long.

"Well yes, but it was really just more… satisfying." She laughed when House groaned. "We had some trouble initially. I thought I'd lost some sensation after… what happened. So we tried other things."

"You haven't lost any sensation." House said with a grin.

"I know that now."

"So he couldn't get you off, and that made you want to try anal sex?"

"I guess."

"I've been going about things all wrong." He was having far too much fun with this. "So did he ring your bell at the back door?"

"Yes, usually, I had to help… a lot, but yes."

"So am I the first person to get you off?" His smile lit up his whole face.

"I'm a person. I can even vote and own property."

"That's a yes. That poor kid's probably still using the same moves. His poor dates are still faking it just to get him out of their room before their parent's get home."

"Hey, he did me a lot more good than a few orgasms."

"Then why'd you leave him?"

"He moved… to Arizona for a cancer drug trial." She explained.

"Your first love had cancer?" House sat up and turned to face her. "Do you feel guilty about that too?"

"I'm not radioactive." She shook her head.

"I don't how to tell you this. It's a very tightly kept secret among the medical community, but there is a direct link between anal sex and cancer."

She laughed out loud. "It's a good thing you filled me in. I'd feel like such an ass if I gave you… cancer."

"Once I get behind an idea I just won't stop." He leaned over her and ran his hand up the inside of her thigh.

"Are you that hard headed?"

Sometimes they'd exhaust themselves, to the point that they fell asleep intertwined. House had been startled, almost worried that he had passed out, the first time he woke on top of her. The only times he could remember being comfortable enough to sleep that way, he'd been on a lot more drugs than he was these days. Chris loved falling asleep with him: beside him, beneath him, or above him. She couldn't remember ever sleeping so peacefully.

Along with not complaining and not expecting much, there was one thing that Chris didn't do that kept House's rapt attention. She never said no. She never claimed to have a headache or simply not be in the mood. She was game for anything he suggested. She never said "That's disgusting." or "That's not physically possible." or "Why do you even own a cattle prod." She just laughed, nodded, and sometimes reminded him where the ceiling fan was. If their exploits failed, and they often did, they simultaneously checked for injuries and found a more traditional position

While House studied her every gesture during sex, Chris examined him after they finished. She knew that even the muscles spasms of an orgasm must be enough to cause some pain in his leg. So, while she was adoring him and feeding his ego, she was also making certain he wasn't in too much pain. She was a quick study.

Two Vicodin always meant excessive pain, while one was harder to determine. It could mean more pain than expected or that it was just time for another dose. If he was really hurting his fingers would give him away. Whether on his thigh, wrapped in the sheets, or cupping her ass, his clenched fingers were a tell tale sign that he was done for the night. If he draped his arm over her, he was ready to sleep. If he held her tight there was more to come. When he absent mindedly stroked her skin, he could go either way.

They were always watching, learning, studying each other. They were both waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the big nasty fight that didn't turn into kinky sex, or the slow lazy boredom as they ran out of new things to say and do. They were both amazed by how easy the whole thing was.

Chris screamed. Her eyes flew open and she covered her mouth with her hand. She was gasping for breath, and wondering if she had really been as loud as she thought. The proud smile on House's face seemed to indicate that she had.

He sat up again and rubbed his thigh. Chris sat up too and stretched her neck and back. She stood carefully peeling herself off the leather and winced. "Oh hell, I feel like I just ran a marathon."

"Me too." Houses eyes were closed and his face was twisted.

"Shit." She forgot to conceal her concern. She went to retrieve the bottle of Vicodin she knew was in the medicine cabinet and brought it back to him. He took two and patted the cushion beside him.

"I should clean up first." She told him and a faint smile returned to his face again.