Temptation Waits

'Let's re-arrange. I wish you were a stranger I could disengage. Just say that we agree and then never change.'

Over my head (Cable car) – The Fray

'You are not healthy.'

He can see her sitting in a booth at the bar. He wonders how he came to be here, or why the hell he is even staring at her. Half of his mind urges him to leave. Leave her. Leave everything that is happening or could be happening or can't happen behind and just go home. He know's he should listen to that half. But her responds to the other.

He swings the door open and walks into the bar. He (hates) the newfound confidence he has gained since being able to walk again. People notice things. He hates people noticing things.

'Interesting,' He began, sliding into the booth next to her unannounced. She looked up, her eyes widening as she stared at him.

'What?' She asked. The first question that pops in her head is 'what the hell are you doing here', but she seemingly is shocked out of asking.

'You. Here. By yourself. I find that interesting,' He replied, fingering the napkin that is set on the table.

He looked up at her and saw that she was staring at him with mixed bemusement and anger. Her lips were pursed and she rolled her eyes swiftly, before picking up her glass of wine and taking a sip.

'Like you don't do stuff by yourself. Oh, wait … Am I thinking of someone else?' She replied sarcastically, looking up at him and raising her eyebrows mockingly.

A smile appeared on his mouth and he went back to fingering the napkin. This was always different for them. There were rules and boundaries that most people set in place, boundaries that were set in place in every relationship. But them, for them, things were different. Boundaries were placed, and then overstepped. It was a vicious cycle, yet something that he couldn't see himself dismissing.

'So you decided to come here by yourself. You would rather be by yourself in a bar than with me?' He looked up at her and waited for an answer.

Waiting. This was always the problem.

He could see her brain ticking away as she didn't look up at him, but continued fingering the stem of her wine glass. Finally she looked up at him, her lips still pursed in a way that reminded him of her reply that afternoon. He (hates) that he finds her glare attractive.

'You were testing me. To see if I would go out with you now that … your leg is mildly better. I wasn't going to accept because believe it or not, I know you. You were just jerking me around,' She stated, looking away as she did so and ran her fingers over her glass.

She sounded oddly sure of herself. He wanted to quash that theory.

'And what if I wasn't?'

He held back a smirk when he saw her tense up in her seat, stopping her fingers from moving against the glass. He caught her off guard. Again. It was that unpredictability that she hated the most.

Hate. It was a strong word, especially for her.

'Don't,' Her voice is soft, and she didn't look up at him. That would mean facing it. This. And everything she had planned on avoiding.

It annoys him. Her. Him. This. Everything and nothing and whatever the hell he is doing here annoys him. Because at that exact moment all he wants to do it touch her.

So he does.

His fingers brushed against her arm and she stared at him. He can almost hear her breath catch in her throat. It gives him an odd sense of power and control that a simple touch can make her stop like that. Makes him want to do it more.

'House …' Her breathing was shallow and he smirked as he leant forward slightly and brushed his lips against her neck.

Her eyes closed slightly and her breathing became less regulated as she attempted to process what was happening. But this was him. And this, this was making her mind spin and everything she wanted to say or not say couldn't or wouldn't come out.

He moved his lips over to her ear. 'Come on. Let's get out of here.'

Before she could respond, his hand was off her arm and he had slid out of the booth, walking out of the bar. She stared after him, contemplating what to do. And against her better judgment –

She followed him.

The air was cool as she stepped out of the bar and her heels crunched into the gravel. It was dark; the only light illuminating the car park was the dim streetlight a little to her left. He was a few meters in front of her, walking across the gravel, to where she didn't know.

'House …' She stopped at her car and looked at him. He turned around and gazed at her.

Stare. Stare. Stare. It was always the same and no matter how much she wanted to look away or talk, she couldn't. She never could. His gaze was almost hypnotic and she held it as he took a few steps towards her, stopping right in front of her.

Her heart thumped in her chest. Her breathing wavered. And before she could do anything he had pressed his lips firmly on hers, pining her to her car door.

He heard her gasp. It provoked him to press against her more firmly, moving his hands to her waist, tugging at the pink shirt she was wearing. He bit her bottom lip and she opened her mouth in response, allowing his tongue entrance into her mouth and feeling it collide with hers. She moaned slightly, her hands grasping his jacket as his free hand went into her hair.

Abruptly, he broke off, leaning his forehead against hers. Her lips were swollen and red, and her breathing was ragged when her eyes fluttered open.

'Not a test,' He muttered softly, before kissing her swiftly on the lips and walking over to his car. She watched him go, her hands pressed against the cold metal of her car to steady herself.

It's here that it starts.