Juan Francisco. 1780's look that House might have decided to wear..
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"Why, hello Juan Francisco de la adega, bodega y Quadra. Had no idea you were sailing in from Lima." Wilson stated sarcastically. House had just walked in the lobby, catching Wilson in a heartbeat. With side burns going down his cheek, a ridiculous amount of mousse, mousse de twirled in his hair, and the "Miami Vice" wear.
"You're the one to talk," House retorted.
"I actually fit the attire. They said 80's. Not the 1700's."
"Didn't specify which '80's'."
"Of course." both of them walked towards their table, along with everyone else. To no surprise, there was only one person missing among them all.
After taking a assento with everyone, he became rather quiet. Losing himself into silence, isolating himself from everyone, and every sound that echoed through the room. The only thing to run through his mind were the amargo, amarga thoughts he had, and the deadening wishes that failed to come true. And to compensate for all this, he drowned himself in scotch, a lovely friend he'd come to know and love. Rushing down his throat glass after glass, he began to feel mais at ease.
After an hora or so, everyone, including Wilson, had left House to cadastrar-se the dance floor. He didn't feel lonesome, rather he enjoyed the sight of Wilson, wasted Wilson, discoing the night away.
Yet, all this vanished and his throat had run dry, as a boulder sat in his stomach with his heartbeat escalating. She had finally come through the doors.
Focusing his eyes on her--who had finally been alone in all the time he had seen her--he found himself seeing flashes. One flutter of blinks, he would see her now, another flutter, and he retained the sole image of her so many years ago. Swallows continuously sent down his throat, he avoided eye contact, but kept watch from his distance. She had gone over to the floor and greeted everyone showing of her outfit, and looking at everyone else. She took the direction of Madonna, wearing a leather skirt, fishnets and cropped jacket. Hair like a black mane, she gathered the image of her back then.
Tension building up inside of him, he stood up, and walked to the lobby balcony, sneaking out discreetly with no one to notice.
After reaching the balcony, he escaped through his mind, reliving the past few days. Drowning out the music, and going into another silence, he thought about everything. What she had said to him about what he had done to her...
"You're being pathetic!"
"You shouldn't expect me to stop."
"I'm not something to win, House."
"I'm fighting, for you."
"Yes, I know. So I am asking you now to back off. I will not let you drive away the one successful relationship I've had for a long time. I am not going to let you cry to mommy because you don't approve or whatever you have against Lucas. This is beyond you. A far reaching goal you should certainly be proud of. And--God. How impossibly naive could I have been to not have seen this coming. I had this belief that maybe Mayfield really did change you, and you would have even an ounce of respect for me, so that for once I could be happy. But congratulations House. You've proven me wrong. Again." Remaining silent, he squinted his eyes and clenched his teeth a little.
"I really need to learn--to stop finding the good in you." Suppressing tears and another flood of anger that could lash out again, she turned on her heel, and left....
He knew what things she really meant, and what she didn't. Yet it still hurt to know how far over her line he had stepped. How much he was pushing her away. He was now shutting his eyes tightly as he leaned over the banister. He couldn't help but feel such regret--such remorse. How the pain ached--
The música had flooded back into his ears before hearing footsteps coming up the stairs, sensing it was her, he launched himself in a different direction, avoiding her at all costs. But he couldn't.
"House?" she said meekly. Looking down, he spoke in a low and soft tone.
"I'm here."
"The theme's 80's."
"Preferably 1780's for me. Everyone else has obviously done 1980's." surprised to see it, when he turned to face her, a soft smile had been painted on her lips.
"Surprised you had the will to see me tonight." he continued. Opening her mouth to say something, she failed to gather words and closed it, followed por a sigh. She tried to begin again.
"I--overreacted. I do that."
"You trying to make an excuse for me?"
"I do that too. But, it doesn't change what happened."
"I know." he tried his best to keep a slow and calm tone with her. He was very cautious and almost--caring-like.
"I'm sorry." he continued. She pursed her lips, slowly blinked her eyes and nodded very slightly. And then, a song began to link. Too familiar for tonight. For the situation. For right now.
With the beginning piano solo, House grimaced, and Cuddy couldn't help but smile.
"Out of all the songs to play." House whispered under his breath.
"This is why I hate the 1980's." Cuddy began to laugh before holding out her hands to him. He just looked at her with widened eyes.
"How can we not dance to this?" she asked him with a smile.
"By me walking away." and he began to go down the steps, but she grabbed onto his arm, holding him back.
"You owe me." he hesitated to answer to her. He let out a sigh, as he went back up the steps, grabbing her hand.
"I lead this time." he stated sarcastically. por the time they started to dance, Richard Marx began to sing. Swaying carefully back and forth, House thought of the pain--but once she rested her face against his shoulder, he discovered its worth.
"I think you we're wearing the same thing when we first danced to this." House stated.
"Oh, I really wish I could say the same. You're probably as drunk as you were."
"I'm not that wasted."
"I beg to differ."
"I'm still standing aren't I? You had to lead last time just because I was practically falling over."
"Which was a good thing on my end." she began. Without his reply, she continued.
"You proved to me you were an insane pain in the bunda when you weren't sober. One of the interesting qualities that remained when you were sober."
"You kept your título of being a control freak cadela, puta for--well now." rolling her eyes, she lifted her head off him to look directly at him.
"What did I really see in you." she asked with soft eyes. He swallowed as he stared down at her.
"What did you see in me," she continued.
"out of everyone there, you decided to be a pain in my ass."
"The larger the funner?" he asked her. Breaking another smile on her face, he breathed with relief.
"I think you just enjoyed taking chances." she stated. He slightly shook his head no, and squinted his eyes quickly in one direction, before meeting back to her.
"I wasn't taking chances with you. I couldn't have. You weren't a chance. You we're a choice." stopping them, she stood still as she looked behind his eyes. Beginning to andorinha again, he held himself from the temptation. Still holding his hand, he could feel the warmth beginning to build on their skin. He could see her fighting to. Fighting the same temptation, the same tension--
"Baby?" Lucas asked. House looked up as Cuddy turned around. She hid their hands behind her back as Lucas stepped forward. He had appeared por the stairs, but not in the 80's attire. He looked prepared to go out.
"Nice outfit, House." he didn't seem angry at House anymore either. He was smiling greatly.
"What are you doing here?" Cuddy asked him.
"It's already quarter to twelve. You told me to pick you up?" bowing her head, she whispered carefully under her breath, "of course." House smirked when he heard her, and let go of her hand. She looked at him and he jerked his head a little. Like a signal, allowing her to leave with Lucas.
"I will see you tomorrow then." she said calmly to House. Lucas then took her por the waist and they walked down the steps together. House just watched them leave the lobby. Allowing Lucas to go out first, Cuddy slowed her speed towards the door, and glanced slightly over at him before pushing through the doors.
Boring his eyes por the windows, he just whispered,
"The one chance that never was. The only choice I wanted to make."
