Third installment of this story line. I had to start subtitling these to keep the chronology straight on my computer. Dr. Gregory House and Dr. Lauren Sheridan, a neurosurgeon at PPTH. The two Doctors have their first date, get to know each other, and erotically consummate their new relationship. Rated M/Adult for strong language and gleeful explicit sexual content/**smut**… (You've been warned!!!)

And patience racefans, my sexys have to have a story behind them before they strip each other down and get to it…

I added a summary of this story line up to now.

All the usual and applicable disclaimers and warnings apply, such as don't like - don't read; I don't own House or any other characters, or anything or anybody else, blah, blah, blah…

Story Summary: The COMFORT Series: House has his life turned upside down by Tritter. He is suspended from the hospital, he runs out of drugs, and is holed up in his apartment, detoxing and in hellacious pain, all alone. A strange mysterious woman with long pretty hair (that smells like pears and ginger) sneaks into his apartment and helps him when all of his friends turned their backs on him and abandoned him. He never saw her face, and he has no idea who she is or why she helped him. He recovers, solves the Tritter problem, and is now determined to find his "Angel of Comfort." He systematically hunts through the hospital staff and discovers the identity of his Angel, Dr. Lauren Sheridan, a neurosurgeon at PPTH. She has been interested in House for some time, purely romantically, and has been watching him from a distance, trying to find a way to get close to him. He has a very hot dream about her, which leads him to accept her offer for their first date… Now read on!

Hey, review away, this story line is far from over, so let me know what you think… because there's lots more on the way… my long silent muse has suddenly become a gushing fire hydrant of verbiage…



House MD fanfic by NiteJasmine


Lauren sat in the deliciously smokey jazz club, enjoying the soft golden glow of the candlelight and the comfortable ambiance of the place, waiting for House to arrive. Our first date, she thought. She was a bundle of mixed feeling and emotions, nervous as well as excited. Anticipating the evening, she was determined to just relax and enjoy herself, while being sure to avoid any stresses or pressures, and do her best to keep her enigmatic date comfortable. And this was definitely a place where House should be comfortable. She had been here once before, to check it out, and it was absolutely perfect. Unpretentious but classy. Not too crowded, not too loud. Soft, worn leather chairs, black gloss tabletops with flickering potted candles and heavy glass ashtrays. One of the few remaining vestiges where smokers could actually smoke indoors. The smoke was not oppressive, just a faint haze in the air that smelled of cigars and apple pipe tobacco, it just seemed to belong there. It mingled sweetly with the current duo performing on the small stage, soulful jazz piano accompanied by a deep resonating sax. She hardly needed to sip the glass of Chablis in front of her, the music itself was so intoxicating. She closed her eyes for a moment, getting lost in the drifting notes, swaying slightly in her chair. God, she really loved this place.

House slipped into the chair across from her, bringing her out of her little reverie. She turned to him and smiled warmly, "Hi," she said, "I see you found the place OK. It's a little off the beaten path."

"No problem. I heard about this place, but never got around to coming out here," he looked around the club, nodding his approval. "Nice."

The waitress appeared and he ordered a scotch on the rocks. She asked if he was hungry, he said a little, so when his drink arrived, they ordered a couple of appetizers to nibble on. The sultry piano and sax were still playing, and they ate, sipped their drinks, and enjoyed the music, briefly chatting about the food and the club's décor.

House was stunned at how comfortable he was, so quickly and easily. He had been a jumble of nerves since she had asked him out yesterday, but he felt completely at ease right now. Lauren was just so easy to be with. He had never felt anything like this before. His relationship with Stacy had been tumultuous, course, passionate, and laced with sarcasm and lots of rough edges. This was so utterly different, warm and comfortable, like a favorite easy chair.

They ordered more food, and their conversation turned to music, and he was delighted to learn that she actually knew quite a bit on the topic. She liked Diana Krall, Ray Charles, Amanda Marshall and Etta James, but also said she was likely to listen to anything from Beethoven to Van Halen, depending on her mood.

"Classic piano to classic rock," he said, "That's quite a leap." She had smiled and laughed softly. "Yeah, it is," she answered.

That's how the entire rest of the evening went, and well on into the night. They talked about classic cars (she also knew a lot about hot rods), and monster trucks. She said she thought they were very cool, but had never been to show, and thought she would probably love it. He regaled her on the attributes of the various trucks and their drivers. They compared notes on some of their past tough patient cases, and some of the more humorous and ridiculous ones too. They talked easily with one another, shifting topics and sharing opinions and experiences. All too soon, they both realized it was getting late, but incredibly, neither one really wanted to go. Eventually, just after midnight, it was Lauren who suggested that they call it a night. She had felt as thought this evening had been enchanted somehow, and she didn't want to push too hard and break the spell. This has gone way better than I ever expected it to, she thought. House reached over and picked up the tab, even though she immediately launched a protest. After all, she had asked him out, so technically, she should pick up the check, but he would hear none of it. Finally, she relented and thanked him.

He walked her to her car across the dimly lit parking lot. It was a clear night, just a little chill in the air. With not many other lights around, the stars overhead sparkled like bright diamonds. On the walk to her car, House felt some of his nervous anxiety begin to return. His stomach started to tighten. After being so relaxed for the past several hours, he now realized that he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do next.

She could feel his tension cranking up on the walk across the lot. When they reached her car, she turned around and stepped gently up close to his chest, putting her hands on the lapels of his jacket and looking at him with a soft, warm smile.

"I've had a wonderful time tonight," she said, gazing into his deep blue eyes. "I'm glad you said yes."

"Me too."

"Wanna do this again?" she asked.

"Tomorrow too soon?"

"Nope. It already is tomorrow," she grinned, trying to keep things light.

He rolled his eyes and felt himself relax a little.

"Dinner. You like Italian?" he asked.

"Absolutely," she answered, and slid her hands up his chest and draped them loosely around his neck. She studied his face for a moment. "How did you know it was me?" she finally asked. "Your hair," he answered with a knowing smile. "Smells like pears and ginger. I remembered that." She thought about it for a second, then gave a soft laugh. "Wow. Well, remind me to send a thank you note to Paul Mitchell. Who would've thought a bottle of shampoo could be so life-altering." She had not worn a jacket and the subtle chill in the night air was seeping through her light blouse. But even with the warmth of his body so close, Lauren couldn't suppress a slight shiver. House didn't think, he just acted on an impulse. He leaned his cane against her car, and opened up both sides of his jacket to her. "Come here," he said, and she gladly slipped her arms inside and around his waist. He wrapped his arms and the jacket around her, and held her close for a minute, letting her absorb his warmth, while he quietly enjoyed the feel of her against him. He leaned his head down and inhaled. The familiar scent of her hair, pears and ginger, was like a drug to him. Yeah, thank you Paul Mitchell, whoever you are. She shifted in his embrace just enough to tilt her head up and meet his mouth with hers. She leaned into him and they kissed, softly and slowly. It was just like his dream, only better. Other club patrons were beginning to spill out into the lot, so they disengaged themselves from each other slowly. She opened her car door, then turned to him again and smiled, "Good night, Greg." Just hearing the way she said his name, it made his pulse jump a bit.

"Good night, Lauren." And then she was in her car and heading out of the parking lot. He stood there and watched the lights of her car fade into the distance, absolutely amazed with himself and with how well the evening had gone. There were a million thoughts and old stirrings of long-thought-dead feelings churning and bubbling up within him, and he was trying to keep them all under control. But he quickly figured that it was going to be a losing battle. As soon as he turned and headed towards his bike, he made a realization that surprised him, excited him and frightened him all at the same time… He could hardly wait to see her again.


Dinner at Trattoria's Saturday night went just as well as the club, even though they were both a little tired from the previous late night. Trat's was a nice family owned little café-style place with red checkered tablecloths and people chattering in the kitchen (albeit, sometimes too loudly) in Italian. They had another wonderful evening, and another sensual kiss goodnight.

They had gone to the movies Sunday afternoon, both heartily agreeing to see the new Bond epic and ignoring any chick flicks. Greg had eaten all of his own popcorn halfway through the movie, and had shown no qualms about reaching over and greedily scooping up handfuls of hers. She had swatted his hand a couple times, but finally had just surrendered the rest of the bucket to him. His triumphant grin had made her giggle a little too loudly, and they had been 'shushed' by a few of the moviegoers behind them. But by the time the end credits on the movie were rolling on the screen, she had long been snuggled against his side with his arm around her shoulders, intermittently toying with her hair. They kissed in the parking lot, and again when he dropped her off at home. Each time getting deeper, more intimate, learning and tasting and feeling each other. And then the magical weekend was ending, and neither of them wanted it to. But the work week was looming on the horizon, and so they said goodnight once again on her front porch. She almost invited him in, but managed to resist the urge. For now anyway. Wait. He's worth the wait. "See you tomorrow," she said, as she slipped inside her apartment and leaned her back against the closed door. What an amazing weekend, she thought.


House sat in his apartment Sunday night, after dropping Lauren off at her place. He reflected on the last 3 days, and was absolutely blown away. He couldn't believe how amazing Lauren was, and how incredible everything had gone. How he felt. Good.

Sure, his leg still hurt, his shoulder still ached and his back still complained. But there was an overlying blanket of… good. He would later look back on this weekend as the first time since his horrible life-altering surgery that he had actually felt anything close to resembling happiness.

This particular weekend would be one of his most cherished memories.

But there were many more to come…


The next 4 days went by in relative normalcy. House completely floored Cuddy when he showed up, on time, not whining, and put in his clinic time. She had grilled him with rampant suspicion about what meds he had taken and how much, either prescription or illicit. He immensely enjoyed merely giving her a smug 'I'll never tell' grin and going about his work. He and Lauren had never actually discussed how they would behave at the hospital, but there was an unspoken agreement that it was nobody's business that they were dating, and therefore it didn't need to be broadcast.

They chatted on the phone a couple times, and he had left her a couple of short and very corny notes in her office, which made her roll her eyes and laugh out loud when she had read them.


It was late in the afternoon, Thursday. House sat in his office, frustrated. No cases worth his attention. He sat back in his chair, and looked across his desk, remembering Lauren sitting right there exactly one week ago. It had only been a few days, but dammit, he missed her. He grabbed his cane and headed for the elevators and the Neurology Department. He found her doing rounds, she was always so diligent about that, and you couldn't miss her with that bright neon orange clipboard of hers. He watched her stride into a patient's room, and waited for her. When she came out, she didn't see him, but walked towards the nurse's station. He quickly closed the distance and came up behind her. "Hey…" he said, but didn't finish. His quick approach scared the living daylights out of her. She squealed and nearly jumped out of her lab coat, spinning around to him and sending her clipboard clattering to the floor. Her reaction was so startling that he actually jumped back too. It only took her a second to recognize him, and she put a hand to her chest, breathing heavily and grinning sheepishly. "Don't do that," she said with a forced smile, trying to settle herself down. "OK? No sneaking up on me and scaring the crap out of me… Not allowed. Kay?" He saw the flash of genuine fear that had crossed her features. He wondered why she was always so jumpy… She was so confident and self assured, it didn't make sense. Another anomaly for him to play with.

"OK," he replied, as she leaned down to pick up her clipboard.

"Thank you," she said, getting herself back under control. The other staff members had scattered, leaving the two of them relatively alone. "So to what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked, "Or are you just catching up on the girl's gossip again?" she asked, flashing a teasing smile. "Ha. No, not this time. Besides, the urology department has way better gossip than you brain girls up here," he snarked, "Theirs carries an adult rating. Lots of penis jokes." Lauren merely rolled her eyes. He smiled smugly. "Tomorrow night, dinner. My place. I'll cook." He said it as a statement rather than a question.

"You… cook?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, I cook," came his indignant answer, "You think I have survived all these years living on take-out pizza and peanut butter?"

"Well, yeah," she laughed. "Sure. This I gotta see. What time?"

"Just come over as soon as you're off shift." He paused, "You already know where I live."

"Yep. Been there," she quipped, still smiling.


She had never finished her rounds so quickly. She had dashed into the locker room, changed into a casual & comfortable pale blue silk button down blouse and a black knee length gauze skirt over her bare legs. She was done and out of the hospital and knocking on House's front door within 15 minutes. She heard him bellow 'It's open,' so she turned the knob and let herself in, feeling a weird touch of déjà vu. "In the kitchen," she heard him say, and she walked towards the sound, dropping her purse on the lounge chair in the living room. She stopped in the doorway, taking in the very domestic scene in front of her. Greg was busy slicing and dicing vegetables and dumping them into a big pot on the stove. His cane hooked on the edge of the butcher block in the middle of the room, but he was moving around the kitchen quite well without it. The smells of sautéed chicken and bacon hung in the air. She inhaled deeply. "Mmmmm… smells delicious," she said, truly appreciative. He looked up and paused. She looked absolutely radiant. "Thanks, almost done and then it just needs to sit here and simmer for a bit. Would you like a drink? I have wine. On the wall, over there, take your pick," he said, pointing with his chef knife to a small wall mounted wine rack.

"Yes, please," she said, walking over and looking over the bottles. She pulled a bottle of Chablis out and set it on the counter top. She turned around to ask him where a corkscrew might be, but stopped and quietly leaned back against the edge of the counter top, watching him. He had his back to her, stirring the food on the stove and adding pinches and dashes of this and that from the spice rack. He had a thin black T shirt on over worn looking jeans. She could see his firm toned muscles move under the fabric as he worked, and she found it erotic. She wanted to reach out and touch him. Run her hands over every inch of his body.

"See anything you like?" he asked, without turning around.

"Yes. I do." Something in her tone must have alerted him, because he turned around with a slightly puzzled look on his face. When he saw her standing there watching him, he just stopped and held her soft gaze for a moment. "I meant the wine," he finally said.

"Oh, yeah, that too," she said, with a mischievous grin. He told her where to find the opener and the glasses, and she poured a Chablis for both of them.

Dinner was delicious. Greg was even more relaxed than the previous weekend, being in his own element and on his own turf. They chatted easily about the week, she kicked off her shoes and flipped them into a corner. When they were done, she helped him clear the dishes before resuming her leaning spot at the counter top, sipping her Chablis. She held his glass out to him as he finished drying his hands off and limped over to her. "To Paul Mitchell," she said with a smile, and they both took a sip. Then they both just stood there, looking into each other's eyes. The silence speaking volumes. Without a word, Greg took her glass from her and set them both down on the counter, out of the way.

They wrapped their arms around each other and kissed. Sensuously at first, then more and more passionately. He wrapped one of his hands in her hair, the other brushing up and down her back, feeling her body move under the silky fabric. Their mouths locked together, tongues dancing deeply back and forth, hungry with need and desire.

She ran her hands down his back and slipped them under the edge of his T shirt, caressing his warm skin as she ran her fingers along the top edge of his belt. He pushed his hips against her, pinning her between himself and the counter top, and she felt the wonderfully large bulge in his jeans pressing against her. She reached out and grabbed his ass, pulling him in even harder, hearing him catch his breath and groan.

He clamped both hands firmly on her waist, just above her hips. "Up," he said, and he helped her half-jump up onto the counter top. He released his grip from above her hips, and pulled back, looking into her deep brown eyes. He slowly unbuttoned her blouse, letting it fall open. A lacy blue bra greeted his hungry gaze. "Beautiful," he whispered. He caressed her over the fabric, then, remembering his hot dream, tucked the fabric aside with his thumbs and gently nuzzled her breasts, licking and kissing. He focused his attention on her nipples, nibbling and sucking on them until they were hard pebbles, feeling her arch her body into him. He slid a hand along the inside of her leg and along her thigh, hearing her breath catch as his hand found it's way to a patch of soaking wet lace. He rubbed her through the thin material, making her jump and moan. He moved his kisses up to her neck and she wrapped her arms around him tighter, clutching at his shoulders and back. She lifted one leg up, wrapping it around him and planting her heel in the small of his back, unashamedly giving him much easier access. He hummed his approval and rewarded her by shoving the silky fabric barrier aside and sliding a finger deep inside her. She curled her hands in his hair and he heard little whimpering sounds coming from her throat as she tilted her head back and moaned louder. He curled his arm around behind her back, supporting her, allowing her to lay back further onto the counter top. He slid another finger into her, and slowly began stroking her, feeling her get hotter and wetter by the second. She was breathing hard, pushing her hips against his hand. His thumb found her clit and she tossed her head back and closed her eyes. "Oh, Greg… Oh, baby…" And he felt her go over the edge. She shuddered with the force of her orgasm, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and digging her heel into his back. When she settled down and opened her eyes, he was smiling at her, still gently stroking her. "You're beautiful," he said, his voice low and sensuous. She smiled back at him, and leaned up slightly. "Greg, take me to bed," her voice was husky with lust.

He pulled his hand from between her thighs, and helped her down from off the countertop. Now I'm never going to be able to make so much as a sandwich again without getting a hard-on, he thought to himself.

Clothing was shed piece by piece between kisses across the living room, down the hall, and into the bedroom. By the time they reached the edge of his tussled, unmade bed, she was completely naked and he was down to his shorts. She had helped him remove his jeans somewhere in the hallway, but when she reached for his boxers to finally completely free his throbbing erection, he grabbed her wrist, stopping her. She immediately knew why. His scar. She understood his apprehension. The self-consciousness of feeling damaged. Being less than perfect. "Lauren…" he started, but words were escaping him. He knew it shouldn't matter, but it had been so long since anyone but himself had seen his damaged limb. His body and his emotions were at war with each other. Relax goddamit, he mentally scolded himself, just relax. She looked up into his deep blue eyes and could see his inner turmoil swirling behind them. "Relax," she said softly, like she was reading his mind. "You can take those off when you're ready." He reached his other hand up and touched the side of her face. She nuzzled her cheek against him, then turned and kissed his palm. She flicked her tongue out and trailed it along his fingers. She took his middle finger into her mouth, licking and sucking on it, tasting herself on him. Then she reached her hand inside his shorts and wrapped her hand around his hard length. He closed his eyes and released her wrist with a deep moan. She began slowly stroking him, making him work to catch his breath. Finally, he tucked both his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and tugged them down, working them lower and lower, then letting them fall to the floor. She smiled and kissed him deeply. "Lay down and get comfortable," she said, and he did. He was naked and sprawled out on his back in the middle of his bed, hard and hot and needy. She slowly crawled up over him on her hands and knees, careful not to put any weight on his bad leg. She lavished him everywhere with hot, wet kisses, his hips, his waist, his stomach. Then she moved to his chest, pausing to suckle and tease his nipples. "Oh, God, Lauren," she heard him moan. His hands were all over her, pulling on her, needing her, wanting to feel more skin against skin, but she stayed poised over him, making sure she did a thorough job of rewarding him. Then another long barrage of kisses along his collarbone, his throat, his neck. Then she was finally face to face with him, hovering over him. "You're beautiful too Greg," she whispered to him, delighted the smoldering look of pure desire in his darkened eyes. Then she kissed him hungrily, driving their fiery passion even higher. She allowed him to pull her down against him, and he hugged her fiercely. He reached over to his nightstand for a condom, but she stopped him. "You don't need one of those baby, I'm safe." She told him. He smiled and hummed his approval. He put his hands on her hips as she reached a hand down between them and guided him into her.

She was so soaking wet that he could have slid fully into her effortlessly, but she controlled her movements and lowered herself onto him very slowly, feeling his generous size stretch her, one slow delicious inch at a time, sending electric sensations rippling through her entire body. He waited until he felt her relax the weight of her body onto him, then gave her a light bounce with his hips, settling her onto him fully and making her gasp with pleasure. She put her hands on his chest and began slowly rocking her hips back and forth, keeping him deep inside her. The intensity made him groan loudly, her grinding hips driving him wild. Her breathing increased rapidly, her eyes closed. He slid his hand inward from her hip, his thumb finding her clit once again and rubbing it in tight circles. She moaned and rocked harder, but never lifting up to stroke him, she stayed down on him, nearly delirious with the feeling of every inch of him buried inside her. "Oh, Greg…" she was gasping and moaning, "oh, god, baby…" And then she shrieked and came hard, this time her entire body shaking and shuddering violently. He felt her inner muscles clamp down and tighten around him and he almost went along with her, but managed to hold it off. He wasn't done with her just yet…

She was just drifting back down when he pulled her close to him and rolled them both over, expertly accomplishing the move with no pangs of complaint from his injured thigh. He didn't give her much time to recover before he pulled her knees up on either side of his ribs, almost under his arms. Then he was pushing his hips against her, driving himself deep into her with every stroke. She gasped and arched her back into him, moaning his name and nearly writhing with pleasure underneath him. He picked up his pace and thrust into her long and hard and deep. It wasn't long before he could feel himself hurtling toward his own release. Lauren was thrashing beneath him, panting and gasping "yes, yes, yes.." She nearly screamed when her third climax of the night ripped through her, spurring him over the edge. He pumped into her with his full weight, and his own climax slammed into him like a truck. White fireworks went off behind his eyes and with a loud growl he emptied himself deep inside her.

Then he collapsed onto her, completely drained and satisfied.

They both laid there with their bodies intertwined, until their breathing started returning to normal. He started to move off of her, but she wrapped her arms around him and held him tighter. "Mmm, no… don't go away…"

"I'm not going far," he replied with a grin, "I'm too heavy on you."

"No you're not."

"Lauren, you do need to breathe," he said, kissing her neck.

She laughed softly, "Oh, alright. Here…" She wiggled a little to her left, sliding halfway from underneath him, allowing him to shift most of his weight onto his left side. His head nestled on her shoulder, still wrapped in her arms. His bad leg slid across her and was resting gently on her, just below her hips, and he made no effort to move it. "Comfy?" she asked, slowly caressing his shoulder, then sliding her hand down his back. "Yep."

They lay there quietly, drifting on the edge of sleep, Lauren's fingertips swirling random patterns on his back, barely grazing her fingernails across his skin. She moved her hand up and rested it on his side.

"Mmm…don't stop…." he mumbled sleepily, "…love your touch…"

She put her hand back and resumed her idle tracings. "Good," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because I love touching you."

The healthy sweat they had worked up with their energetic lovemaking gradually waned, making the room feel chilly. Neither one of them wanted to move, but Greg managed to reach down and grab enough handfuls of blankets to sufficiently cover them both up. A great argument for not making the bed, he thought dreamily to himself. They were both wrapped around each other, contented, and before long, fast asleep.


They slept soundly, and woke up with pale sunlight streaming into the room. At some point during the night, Lauren had rolled onto her side and snuggled against Greg, gently spooning. He opened his eyes and rolled over to get his morning Vicodin from the nightstand, wincing a little. He heard Lauren moan softly as they separated. He popped 2 pills, then put the bottle back and rolled back towards the warmth of his lover. He looked down at her beautiful body, laid out with her back to him, looking almost luminous in the morning light, her gorgeous hair spilled across the pillow. And then he saw them. Scars. There were 2 of them, on either side of her spine, running from the middle of her back down towards the base of her spine. They looked as thought they had been healed for quite some time, the lines were faded pink and smooth. If she had been standing up, he never would have seen them, her hair would have covered them perfectly…

He reached out and ran a gentle finger along one scar, tracing it's path. Lauren jumped, waking her up, and he pulled his hand away. She sighed heavily and rolled over on her back, looking up at him sleepily. "Good Morning," he said, smiling and softly touching the side of her face. "Yes, it is," she answered, a dreamy smile on her face.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Starved," came her quick reply.

"OK. I'll make us some breakfast,"

"Kay. I'll be right there," she said, and slid from the bed and headed for the bathroom. He was right, her hair completely covered the scars that he had just seen on her back. He rolled out of bed and threw on whatever clothes happened to be laying on the floor within reach, and headed for the kitchen, trying to remember where he had left his cane.

She joined him a few minutes later, wearing one of his T shirts. They made breakfast and talked about what to do with the remainder of the weekend.


House had mentally filed the medical anomaly of Lauren's back away for future reference, already trying to stifle his rising curiosity…