Fic: All The Points Where Contact Fails Us, House/Cuddy/Stacy, NC17
MONDAY
House groaned and shoved a pillow over his head as Stacy pulled forcefully on the curtains, allowing a harsh invasion of light that he wasn’t ready for. She was singing softly to herself, off-key as ever, and he wondered again how the hell he’d spent almost five years living with a morning person.
“Greg, you’re gonna be late,” she warned, no real malice in her tone.
Pulling the pillow from his face, he pushed himself up on his elbows and watched as Stacy finished her morning preparations, scooping up her necklace from the bedside table.
“Doesn’t matter. Bryce can hardly fire me when he’s already got one foot out the door. I’ll be the new Dean’s problem. Meanwhile, I’m going to get some more sleep without you mumbling about malpractice and kicking me.”
Stacy threw him one of her patented glares over her right shoulder as she fussed with her earrings.
“The only thing on my mind right now is that you won’t tell me what you want for your birthday. That’s keeping me awake nights.”
House shrugged at the reminder. The fact that he didn’t actually celebrate his birthday seemed to be lost on Stacy; always had been.
“Can I have a pony? Or a motorcycle?”
She groaned at his predictability as she slipped into her heels, and House took a moment to appreciate the slender lines of her legs. Maddening, and not a little unexpected that he should still be so attracted to her after all this time. He felt a distinct stirring under his pajama bottoms as he observed her.
Something that was distinctly not helped by the way she bent slightly to apply her lipstick in front of the mirror. He’d been meaning to hang it for months, but it was still propped up on top of the drawers. House watched intently as Stacy traced her lips deftly, the difference negligible as she only wore the most neutral colors to work. He preferred when she broke out the deep reds for a night out, but there was no chance of seeing her like that around the hospital.
For a split-second, Cuddy popped into his head, she still wore dark colored make-up despite her self-importance at being named Head of Endocrinology last year. He wondered if she’d look less like the cocky kid he’d copied from at Michigan if she wore more subtle things like Stacy. Oh well, it wasn’t like he spent a lot of time looking at Cuddy’s face, given the kind of shirts she liked to wear to work.
In his distraction, House didn’t notice Stacy approach the bed. She kissed him gently on the mouth, pulling back after a millisecond so as not to smudge the make-up she’d just applied. He grabbed instinctively for her arm, trying to pull her back into the sheets with him.
“Greg, I have to go to work. So do you, and we should really be driving in together. It’s ridiculous to take two cars.”
“Quit saving the planet and apply yourself to the more pressing matter of my morning glory.”
A flicker of indecision showed on Stacy’s face and he released his grip triumphantly. Unfortunately, he’d just been played, and Stacy was on the move again before he could react.
“I should be home on time tonight,” she began. He cut her off with a disbelieving snort.
“Okay, so I won’t be really late, if the depositions go well. By the time I see you, you’d better have decided what you want for your birthday.” There was warning in her tone now, the stresses of the day ahead creeping into her consciousness.
“How about a threesome?” His grin was cheeky, but he was careful to keep his voice sincere.
“You think Wilson would be up for that?” He grimaced at her lightning-quick reply.
“Very funny. I’ll let you pick the girl and everything. I can be generous, even though it’s my gift.”
Stacy shook her head as she stood in the doorway of the bedroom.
“You crack me up, Greg. Try and get in before lunch, okay? And don’t get any more work sent down to me today, Legal is already swamped.”
Waving her away, House turned over in bed, intent on getting some more rest. When the throbbing in his groin persisted, the word threesome having escalated slight interest to half-mast, he surrendered and got up to shower as he heard Stacy slamming the front door.
WEDNESDAY
Two days later, House strode triumphantly into the living room, where Stacy was scribbling frantically in the hybrid shorthand that he almost understood, but didn’t usually try to. Her work was boring to him, unless it provided decent gossip about other doctors at the hospital.
Dangling from the fingertips of his right hand was a small bag from Victoria’s Secret, but Stacy didn’t even look up from her notes as he came bounding in. Slightly offended, he flopped down onto the couch beside her, knocking a book to the floor and crushing plenty of paper as he did so.
That earned him an exasperated ‘Greg’ and she finally looked up from her work to acknowledge his presence.
“I found my birthday present,” he crowed, making no attempt to remove the smugness from his voice.
“Really? I didn’t think red was your color honey.”
He’d been expecting a better reaction than that.
“Where’s the ranting about how I’ve ruined the surprise? How I never let you do anything nice for me? Huh?”
Stacy merely gave him a smile that made him feel distinctly unsettled.
“That’s not your surprise. Nice try, though.”
Frowning, House threw the confusing matrix of lace and straps on the table, and when that didn’t pull Stacy from her notes, he gave up on his quest to annoy her.
Well, for an hour or so.
He fell asleep later than usual that night, Stacy pressed against his back. What had really bugged him, he realized just before drifting off, was that Stacy’s unflappable front meant she had a plan. For once, he had no clue what it was.
FRIDAY
It started with a crappy day at the office.
Stacy had watched the crisis in Lisa’s department grow all week, keeping a safe but friendly distance. When Lisa finally got it all under control, firing two interns and a resident in the process, Stacy was waiting by Lisa’s office door with the offer of a therapeutic post-work drink.
They had a quick drink in the soulless bar nearest to the hospital, before deciding it was best to retreat anywhere that wasn’t filled with their more lecherous colleagues.
Eventually Stacy’s apartment won out, since Lisa was still living in a tiny studio just off campus. They picked up a couple of bottles of wine en route, conversation flowing easily between them as Stacy drove them home.
Stacy didn't mention the application form for the Dean's position that she saw when Lisa was fumbling in her briefcase for something, and Lisa didn't ask why Stacy wasn’t out somewhere celebrating Greg’s birthday. Of course he was sitting home on a Friday night with a bottle of Maker's Mark and football on TV, why would anyone who knew Greg assume anything different?
The stiffening of Lisa's spine in his presence didn't go unnoticed, and the rhythm of their barbs at each other started like the needle had been dropped on a record in the middle of a song: a perfect blend of informal surnames and insults. Stacy sighed a little, their animosity lingered like an inside joke that she'd never understand despite repeated vague explanations. But she poured drinks and settled into the armchair like a gracious hostess without comment.
The bottles drained at a steady rate, the warm glow of the room lulling away the stresses of the week. Stacy was relieved to hear the sniping reduce, watching Greg and Lisa in their respective corners of the sofa, like prize-fighters awaiting the bell for the next round. Her tongue liberated by alcohol, Stacy let the question she'd always been too proud to ask finally be spoken aloud.
"So, when exactly was the last time y'all slept together?"
Her Southern drawl was more pronounced with her Bordeaux-inspired buzz, but she was fairly sure it wasn't her Carolina twang that had caused such a stunned silence.
Lisa flushed instantly, the flaring pink of her cheeks visible under the fading remnants of the day's foundation. Greg, for his part, simply lowered his glass and stared at Stacy like she'd gone completely insane.
Stammering slightly, Lisa floundered with a non-answer until Greg barked out "Michigan", averting his eyes carefully from both women.
Smiling into her wineglass, Stacy felt the first flush of victory - in almost five years, Greg had always hedged on that question, diverting her with jokes or sex until the subject was dropped. Now she'd finally gotten a straight answer.
"And you haven't been tempted since? All this fighting isn't hiding something else?"
Lisa stood at that, clearly flustered.
"I think we should probably call it a night. Thanks for the drinks, but I have work tomorrow."
That prompted a snort from Greg.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday. I thought Endo was one of those boring weekday specialties? A desk job, basically,”
It made Lisa flinch, and she reached reflexively for her briefcase. Of course, Greg had probably known about her intent to apply before Lisa herself did. Nothing surprised Stacy these days.
“Lisa, there’s no need to go. I apologize if we made you feel embarrassed.”
Stacy unfolded her legs from under her and crossed the room to Lisa’s side.
It was now or never, Stacy thought with more than a little trepidation.
Stacy reached for Lisa’s hand, grasping it firmly and praying that the slight trembling wouldn’t betray her nervousness.
“In fact, I was really hoping you’d stay.”
Lisa’s face was a perfect study in confusion, and Stacy knew she had to make a move while everything was still in a state of flux. Turning to face Greg briefly, she muttered something she hadn’t said all day.
“Happy birthday, honey.”
Then she kissed Lisa.
SATURDAY MORNING
Lisa winced at the creaking of the stripped wood beneath her bare feet as she crept towards the front door, shoes in hand. She had dressed hastily in the dim light of the hallway while trying not to make a sound. Most of her clothes had been recovered, but her stockings were nowhere to be found and the last thing she wanted to risk was waking either House or Stacy in her search for them.
She almost made it, too.
In fact, her hand was on the doorknob when she heard the gentle cough from somewhere behind her. Muttering curses under her breath, she turned to face a bemused Stacy.
“Sneaking out, Lisa?”
Discombobulated in the extreme, Lisa found herself at a loss for anything to say, but she felt a familiar heat in her cheeks as she avoided Stacy’s eye.
“I figured it would be awkward if I stayed for breakfast and fighting over the Saturday paper.”
Stacy crossed the room in a few quick strides, her dark, silk robe tied loosely around the waist. Instinctively, Lisa found herself stepping back from the sudden proximity.
“Lisa, this doesn’t have to be weird.”
Feigning nonchalance, Lisa shrugged and then nodded. After all, she had certainly enjoyed herself, even though she had mentally been blaming the red wine and temporary insanity. She could see the tension in Stacy’s shoulders too, her attempts at bravado not quite hiding the discomfort.
“We’ll all be back at work on Monday, unless Greg and James kill each other on the golf course tomorrow.”
Small talk was really more than Lisa could stand. Finally able to make her excuses, she fled into the cool spring morning, walking back towards campus despite her punishing footwear.
It wasn’t until she was back in her own stuffy apartment, an impromptu breakfast of takeout coffee and a bagel in hand, that she allowed herself to really think about the events of the previous evening.
Sipping distractedly at her coffee cup, Lisa let her eyes slip closed, replaying the moments that had transformed the night from just another drink with friends into one of the wilder experiences in her relatively sheltered life.
A threesome? With House and Stacy? Suddenly that insanity defense didn’t seem so ridiculous. What was she thinking, really? Had she even been thinking at all?
She’d protested, of course, when Stacy’s lips landed softly on her own.
But she hadn’t resisted.
Lisa wiped away the crumbs absent-mindedly and threw her empty coffee cup in the trash. As she made her way into her cramped little bathroom, turning the shower on full blast, all she could picture was House’s face when that first kiss had ended.
It was the first time she’d seen him look genuinely happy in years.
SATURDAY
House had no intention of getting up early, but he’d been awake enough to hear the stilted exchange between his girlfriend and his oldest friend in the living room.
Stacy didn’t come back to bed, he heard the familiar weekend noises of her cleaning up, clattering coming from the kitchen suggested that breakfast would be available if he deigned to emerge before noon.
The lingering edges of a hangover nagged at him, and he opted to kill two birds with one stone with a trip to the bathroom: emptying his bladder and then slurping from the faucet until he was suitably rehydrated.
He was definitely awake now, no chance of falling asleep even if he buried himself beneath the sheets once more. Humming to himself, he began his sloppy morning routine of a quick shave and perfunctory brushing of teeth.
When he turned the shower on, he realized that he was avoiding Stacy. In almost five years, he’d never done anything, not even a 5am run, without kissing her good morning or finding some way of disturbing her.
It was hard to believe she’d really followed through on the threesome idea. Sure, she’d always been adventurous, and the fragments of sorority tales she’d teased him with over the years hadn’t made it entirely unexpected, but she’d laughed the idea off so convincingly. Which was probably why, when the two women kissed, his jaw had dropped so fast it had almost dislocated.
Damn, but it had been hot though. Despite the initial stammering and questioning looks, it hadn’t taken long for one of his favorite fantasies to be unfolding in front of him. Cuddy had always been pretty wild, but he’d expected her to storm out after Stacy’s first move. He’d never been happier to be wrong.
Stepping under the spray, he felt himself getting hard as flashes of the previous night came thundering back to him. Stacy kissing him right after she kissed Cuddy, then giving Cuddy permission to take a turn with the subtlest little nod. Clothes being shed in slightly drunken fumbling motions, the weird moment when the three of them stopped to stare at the bed, some sort of unspoken point of no return.
God, he’d almost come from sheer excitement when both gorgeous women decided to throw themselves down on the mattress. Muttered conversation between them, Cuddy stroking Stacy’s hair gently and then they were making out dressed in only their underwear and House had to pinch himself to make sure it was really happening.
They had made room for him soon enough, Stacy taking the initiative as usual, claiming him as her property to be shared with their guest. Funnily enough, that had been absolutely fine with House. He could shut up and be bossed around when the reward was exciting enough.
Stroking himself hard with his soap-slicked hand, House replayed his favorite moments in glorious Technicolor detail.
The girls had taken care of foreplay pretty well, their chests flushed pink with arousal, wild glints in their eyes as they welcomed him into the kissing, touching, skin on skin festival that had taken over his bed.
Before long, he had been kneeling between them, fully erect as he let his hands wander. He was grateful for the years of piano playing, ambidextrous in his ability to pleasure them. The last scraps of underwear were long since lost to the floor, and when he touched Stacy it was with his left hand. That hand is slightly weaker, but it’s easier to remember what she likes and how she likes it. When it comes to Cuddy he needs that extra edge, working from memories of over ten years ago, trying to impress with all that he’s learned since.
With three people that competitive, it was going to be the best sex they’d ever had or a fight to the death. Stacy on the side of his heart, the only one who saw the rare emotions he could express, the softest part of a life he kept shrouded in sharp edges and darkness. Cuddy, his pragmatic side, the voice of reason he pretended to ignore but he stole her advice shamelessly when he needed it.
Stacy got the condom from the bedside table - she’s organized, she’s methodical, and oh fuck she was sucking on Cuddy’s tits and he genuinely thought he might come without being touched. He managed to fuck them both in the end, but it had to be Cuddy first - the novelty, the familiarity, the rarity of the chance. House buried himself inside her as his eyes locked with Stacy’s, a final check that this was really allowed, really happening.
It didn’t take much to get Cuddy off, and he was glad she’d been so turned on because he wasn’t far behind in crashing into his orgasm. The sensation of her tensing around his cock had been exquisite, everything he remembered but better.
Stacy’s lips were pressed against his as he cried out in climax.
He came, shuddering, in the shower as he recalled it. He was reluctant to leave the confines of the bathroom; sure the spell would somehow be broken as soon as he did.
Whistling, he dressed and decided to brave the kitchen. Stacy was pacing nervously, a mug of coffee in her hand. Overcome with that weird mushy feeling that could only be love, he marched across the room and kissed her deeply, a faint splash of lukewarm coffee falling on his arm as he caught her off-guard.
What she’d given him had been more than a simple gift. She’d enjoyed it too, if her moans of pleasure from Cuddy going down on her were any indication.
They moved apart again, her lopsided grin apparent once more. There was probably some profound way to express his gratitude, like falling to his knees and promising to worship her until the end of time. That was more for the emotionally available types though, so he settled for a ‘thanks’ before stealing her mug and draining the last of her coffee.
Oh yeah, there would be conversation to come later, insecurity raising its ugly head at some point. These things didn’t happen without ensuing weirdness, no matter how many times porn told him otherwise. In the meantime, House flipped on the TV and pretended to lose himself in ESPN.
MONDAY
Lisa hovered nervously outside the Infectious Disease department, before finally deciding that avoidance was the best option after all.
It wasn’t until lunch, sitting alone in the cafeteria with the latest stack of journals, that she heard the first whispers about House being admitted the day before. She panicked slightly, guilt flooding her thoughts even though she knew there was nothing related to Friday night that would cause him to be in the ER. Most likely Wilson had hit him over the head with a golf club for making lewd remarks about his girlfriend, Julie something or other.
Guilt was still strong enough to have her heading straight to the ER the minute her tasteless sandwich was gone.
She spoke with his attending, scanned the chart and procrastinated as long as she could, watching the back of Stacy’s head through the gap in the curtain. Unable to avoid either of them any longer, she took a deep breath and stepped into the last place on earth she wanted to be.
WEDNESDAY
Lisa spoke to the surgeon in firm tones, in no mood to nurture his God complex. Stacy lingered at her shoulder, intent on seeing their plan through.
They didn’t hold hands in the waiting room, they barely looked at each other as they feigned interest in paperwork and sipped at substandard coffee. It wasn’t hard to surmise that everything was already broken beyond repair, but they continued to act as though it would all work out in the end.
By the time midnight rolled around, after the hours of shouting and fighting and exhausting non-apologies, Lisa was done.
THURSDAY
She sat in her car and cried. Banished from his room, unwelcome in the hospital, Stacy banged her head on the steering wheel in frustration as the tears kept coming.
She’d have given anything for an ill-advised threesome to be their biggest problem. Of all the ways Stacy had thought they would fuck it up, Greg getting ill hadn’t been one of them.
Wiping furiously at her tears, she saw Lisa exit the hospital, setting out across the parking lot for home. The urge to call out, to talk as they’d been able to a few days before, was overwhelming.
Instead, Stacy drove home, alone.