Author's Notes: This fic was originally written for mellow_drama for her birthday. It's set about two years after House/Cuddy get together, so it's definitely AU. Bombshells, Moving On – those things didn't happen. If that bothers you or if you don't like reading sex scenes, please do not read.
Disclaimer: I do not own House. I am also not the person behind Airtight Granny.
The Untimely Death of Megaupload
By Duckie Nicks
It was the best week of his life.
In the almost two years of dating, they had only gone on vacation together once. Back when everything had been new and he'd been too afraid to trust that it would last, he had insisted they go to France. And perhaps just as fearful as he had been, Cuddy had agreed. It had been a nice week in Mont St. Michel, a string of days that had been little more than sex and sleeping. Never more than a few inches away from one another at all times, they had relished in one another's company, terrified that, when they'd returned to work, everything would be different.
It had been, of course. The transition had been painful at times, the stretch between adversaries to friends to people who'd had sex for a week to a couple one he'd never thought himself capable of.
And after nearly two years together, House had been ready to call it, albeit cautiously, a victory.
The thought had come to him without intention. He had not willfully recalled how rocky the road had been to get to this point, to where he could sleep in Cuddy's bed with Rachel down the hallway – and absolutely no one thought it was odd. He had not been reassessing or evaluating the state of their relationship in those wee hours of the morning, in those precious moments before the dogs across the street and the toddler down the hall woke up with loud cries. It would have been an appropriate time to think such things, what with his girlfriend tucked into his side with her face buried into his chest. It would have been understandable to wonder, as he'd suffered from a bout of insomnia, how they were doing. But in that moment, as she'd, deep in sleep, rubbed her nose along his breastbone, he hadn't been thinking any of those things. He'd only lamented the lack of slumber on his part, jealously glancing at Cuddy every now and then as though hours of sleep were something they shared and she'd taken all of them for herself selfishly. And for whatever reason, the thought had come to him at that moment:
He was actually pretty lucky.
He'd despised the happy thought, fervently tried to deny its truth. Secretly House had understood that it was true: he was lucky to be content and with her. And that had been why he'd never wanted to admit that he was either of those things. Because the second he'd conceded those points, he'd been sure the universe would punish him for it. As much as House believed the world was indifferent, in that moment, he hadn't been able to ignore the voice in his head – that if he recognized how much he loved her, this, it would be taken from him.
But in the end, he hadn't been able to quiet the thought completely. It had been a whisper of an idea, not fully formed, discovered while he struggled with delirium borne from lack of sleep. But that little whisper had haunted him for days afterwards, never leaving him alone. And finally, out of sheer frustration, he had given himself to the concept, thrown himself whole-heartedly into believing it.
He was happy and lucky, and since both of those adjectives were all courtesy of Cuddy, it had seemed reasonable to suggest a vacation for just the two of them to celebrate. It hadn't been their anniversary, though her birthday hovered around the proposed dates, an added carrot to tie onto his stick to lure her in. At the time, he hadn't been able to tell if that was what did it. She'd agreed eagerly, the second he'd mentioned a private celebration – without Rachel, without Arlene (actually, that might have been the ultimate selling point), or anyone else. But perhaps she had independently come to the same conclusion, that he had made her just as happy as he denied being.
When they reached the hotel and he found the video camera in his suitcase though, there was no point in denying anything. The surprise infused in every syllable, he asked her, "You brought my video camera?"
"I did," she admitted as she placed the rest of her clothes in one of the closets in their hotel suite.
He frowned, unhappily stuffing the camera back into his bag. "I thought we agreed we weren't actually going to be doing any sight seeing."
Magnanimously he made it seem like there was room for debate. In fact, there wasn't. They had agreed – Cuddy enthusiastically so – that it didn't matter where they went; they were going to spend the entire time in the hotel; they'd conceded that maybe they could go out to dinner a couple of nights in the week they were going to be here. They'd agreed that perhaps one day could be spent boning up on what was around them locally (as opposed to each other), so that when they were asked what they did on vacation, they would have something to say (other than each other). They had not agreed to the tourist thing. He distinctly remembered that. And if he lied at all then, it was because he knew: if Cuddy had decided to change their plans, irritating her wasn't going to get him laid any faster.
"No," she said calmly, coming over to unpack his things. Apparently she didn't trust him to do it himself. "We agreed on that."
Her gaze was focused on her hands, which were lifting out a few of his t-shirts that she had folded herself when he'd used the old ball-and-toss method of packing. But she must have felt the heat of his eyes on her, because she blushed when he looked at her with dim understanding.
"Wow," he said, perhaps louder and more obnoxiously than he meant. She didn't look at him as she pulled away from the suitcase and started putting his things in various drawers. "A sex tape?"
"I have some rules."
"Of course you do." Cuddy got off on rules; it was to be expected that this wouldn't be any different. Not even slightly dismayed, he picked up the camera once more. Looking at it, as though it were suddenly the greatest purchase of his life, he said, "I hope you charged this thing before we left, because –"
"Hold that thought." His mouth snapped shut, dread beginning to pool in the bottom of his stomach. Rules were expected, but the smug manner in which she was speaking made him think that those rules weren't going to make him very happy. He had good reason to think that. "Anything we tape – you have to delete it before we leave."
He was taken aback by the order. "Why?"
"Because if someone finds that camera, I don't want them to see –"
"Who is going to find it?" he asked in all seriousness.
"Airport security?" She suggested with a shrug.
"Why would –"
"Because you are insane and will surely get the camera confiscated."
"You think that's going to happen?" He didn't give her a chance to say yes. "Fine. I'll behave in the airport, Mommy. Can we keep the tape now?"
"What if Rachel finds it?" she asked.
"How is –"
He wasn't going to give up that easily. "Why would she –"
"Or my mother."
"Why would she –"
"Because she's nosy, House," Cuddy said matter of factly. "Because once you have a sex tape, there is always a chance that someone will find it."
Part of him wanted to explain that that was kind of the benefit of having a tape. Sure, being able to watch it yourself had its appeal. But there was also something enjoyable about the possibility of someone finding it, watching it and watching him fucking her. Perhaps that wasn't a plus for her since someone discovering their tape would mean someone was watching her doing him; he guessed that, when you were slumming it, the proof of that wasn't exactly something you wanted to get out. But House couldn't personally relate to that. Because he was all in favor of everyone in the entire world knowing the hot piece of ass he was getting every (or almost every anyway) night.
Since she wasn't going to find the appeal in that, however, he knew there was no point in saying that out loud. If anything that might just turn her off altogether. So he lied.
"No one is going to –"
"You can't promise me that."
"Fine," he capitulated, knowing that this was going to be a sticking point. "Then I'll use your laptop to –"
"No," she said with a firm headshake.
"You think I want that on my computer?"
"I won't keep it on your computer." The idea forming as he spoke, he explained slowly, "I'll… upload it… to a video hosting site. Not Youtube," he added hastily, seeing the idea pop into her head. "Some place that's anonymous. I'll put a boring name on it so nobody watches it, make it private if I can. Then I'll delete it off the camera; it won't be on the computer. The only people who will know it's there are you and me."
Actually, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that this was probably the best way to go. Keeping it on the camera, they, like Cuddy suggested, risked the possibility of someone discovering it. Even if no one found it, there was also the chance that they might lose their luggage and the camera and therefore the porn. All of the same could be said for Cuddy's laptop. But if it were online…
It would always be there.
He'd used enough file-sharing sites to know how it worked, to know that it was a reliable means of saving things. House had never used any of those website to host his own videos, but he had used Megaupload enough to download porn to know the basics. He doubted that Cuddy did, because she was so uninterested in pop culture that she couldn't even work the remote at home for the cable; so he anticipated some further resistance on her part. But oddly enough… that didn't happen.
"Fine," she agreed after a moment's consideration.
She nodded her head. "But this is between us. If you tell anyone or show –"
"I'm not going to do that." If someone found it, he wouldn't be opposed; he could actually find enjoyment in that. But he would never give it to someone else or make it easy for someone to discover it out of respect for her. Out of deference, he wasn't lying to her then.
She must have believed him, because she didn't fight him after that. "Okay."
He waited a few minutes, just in case there was some inkling of doubt creeping slowly to the surface. But when she didn't speak up, he had no choice but to take a few steps towards her. His hands lightly pushing on her shoulders, he guided her back towards the bed.
As he eased her onto the mattress, she mumbled against his mouth, "Save it for the camera."
Tongue licking her lower lip for only moment, he moved his fingers towards the button on her jeans. Her breath hot against his skin, her back arching into him, his response was honest.
"I've got plenty more where this comes from."
She smiled, murmured her approval, understanding that, in spite of his age, he was insatiable.
Thankfully for him, so was she.
II. Session Three; Production Begins
Her bare breasts were pressed against his back, her fingernails scraping against his sensitive nipples in a way that was much more pleasurable than it sounded.
He tried to ignore it.
Since arriving at the hotel, they'd had sex – twice. Neither time was on camera; they'd been so impatiently interested in screwing each other that they hadn't bothered to turn the damn thing on. Hours later and after a nice dinner in their hotel room, they were ready for another round. Drunk on sleep deprivation and the freedom to have sex whenever they wanted, however they wanted, and on camera, they were far from ready for bed. Though they probably should have been, they were both wide awake and eager to move things along.
That should have been easy. Having ordered room service, they hadn't needed to do anything other than take off their bathrobes to be prepared for their first shoot. But her hands on his body, her mouth pressing light kisses into his shoulder blades, were distracting him from the task at hand.
"Did you bring the camera for me to use?" he asked honestly as his fingers fumbled with the buttons for what felt like the hundredth time. "Or were you just hoping to distract me the whole time?"
"No, I want you to use it." There was a resolve to her tone that made him smile.
"Then would you stop so I can concentrate?" Her response was to allow her hands to slip down his body. Her fingers curling around his erection, he nearly dropped the camera. "Yeah, thanks. That helps."
"This is the one tape we're making," she explained in a casual voice, like she wasn't trying to jerk him off at that very moment. "You need to make sure every minute is capturing something good." She stroked him slowly, her fist eliciting a small thrust from his hips.
Doing his best to focus on her, he scoffed. "I understand your addiction to efficiency, but right now I'm going to blow a load on some hotel furniture and be done for the –"
"I don't think so. You're not done until I say –"
"Then I'd suggest you figure this damn thing out or get your hands off me, because otherwise –"
"Fine," she snapped. Letting go of him, she reached up and grabbed the camera from his hands. "I'll do it, all right?"
It took her a whole ten seconds to figure it out.
Dismayed he felt compelled to tell her, "I loosened it for you."
"Yes," she agreed dismissively. Putting the camera back on the table, she aimed it towards the bed. "You're a big manly stud." He was ready to object that, when she put it like that, he didn't exactly feel much better. But she didn't give him a chance to. Bringing him back to the original point of all this, she whispered, "And now you get to prove it."
The offer extended, he reached for her. His hands clasped around her wrists, and he pulled her towards him. Her lips on his within seconds, it was clear to both of them that they possibly weren't going to make it to the bed. Her body against his, her pebbled nipples tickling his flesh, his hard cock wedged between their bodies, waiting seemed like an impossible feat. He needed her, right then, right there, no matter how it looked on film.
Letting go of her hands, he slipped his fingers between their bodies, between her thighs. She was wet to the touch – and warm, so juicy and hot and ready to be fucked.
Yet her voice remained even when she spoke up. In a tone that just had a hint of complaint, she pointed out, "The camera can't see it."
Any doubt he might have had about her wanting this disappeared at that moment. Because in those words was the proof: she wasn't just offering this to him; he had mentioned it before, had made it clear that some video for the spank bank would be nice. But she was doing this, because she wanted it too.
She wanted this.
Not because he mentioned it, not because she wanted to please him, but because she wanted to have the video just as much as he did.
As if to reiterate that point, she pulled the fingers he'd shoved inside of her cunt out. Her hand holding his, she guided them back to the bed.
"Lie down," she instructed calmly, a smile playing on her lips.
His palm slid across her hipbones, cherishing her body. At that moment, he was tempted, perhaps more than ever before, to say just how much he loved her. But in the scheme of things, if he said that, that bit of their porno would always bother him. As comfortable as he was with their relationship, he didn't necessarily want a reminder of his feelings when he just wanted a quick way to get off.
So he fought the urge and sat on the edge of the bed.
But he didn't remain silent. Drinking in her naked form standing before him, he asked, "Ready for your close up?"
She pushed him back onto the bed roughly. A smirk on her face, she said in a hoarse voice, "You have no idea."
The confidence in her was palpable for him. As she spun around, so that she was facing the camera, he couldn't help but look at her in awe. She was fearless. No matter how many rules she'd felt the need to set, it was clear that there was no part of her that was reluctant now; when she knew no one else would see it, when she knew that this would stay between them, that he would be the only one watching her, she was more than eager.
And he didn't know then if she willingly sank down onto his straining cock or if his hands on her hips forced her down. But at that moment, he entered her in one fluid thrust. The intensity of it took them both by surprise, as he gasped and she moaned simultaneously.
They had already done this twice this evening, but that meant nothing to them. They were as interested as they'd ever been. Around the edges they were beginning to get sloppy. Within seconds, House felt as though his heart were pounding, his balls already tight with the need to shoot his load inside her; her moves on top of him were at times uneven, her hips rocking in shaky intervals. But there was nothing unpleasant or disappointing about that.
He liked watching her through hooded eyelids, enjoyed seeing her work her body into a frenzy – almost as much as he liked the way it made him feel. His fingers lazily traced the vertebrae in her spine, her skin sweaty and warm to the touch, and every now and then, when some of her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, he felt almost paralyzed by her beauty. He would have used the word breathtaking, but he could hear his own loud inhales, his ears filled with his own raspy exhales and the soft fleshy slaps her ass was making against his body. And if there were something he was supposed to find inadequate about any of it, he couldn't even begin to be in the right mind to figure out what.
Her sweet pussy snug around him, there was no thought whatsoever like that. She was simply almost dripping with need, squeezing his dick with every motion of her hips, and he was merely along for the ride.
His hands moving to her hips once more, he pulled her against him in time with each thrust. Her fingers tangled in the sheets. Her knuckles almost white, it was clear she would be coming soon. He could feel the change in her body. Her muscles clenching him tighter and tighter, it was as though she were drawing him in further, taking him deeper into that hot pit of need nestled inside of his own body.
When he came loudly, he didn't consider how it would look on film – or the possibility of their neighbors hearing him.
In fact, at that moment, he didn't think at all.
III. Session Four; POV Shots
Her lips were busy lavishing his balls with a series of kisses when he said, "Hey, Cuddy. Look into the camera." The mess of curls that constituted her morning hair brushed against his thighs and cock as she listened. Gazing at her through the LCD monitor of the camera, he smiled. The frame constituted of her pretty face and his dick, hard and pink and ready for her sultry mouth.
As narration, he explained, "So here we are, day two of our vacation to… where are we again?" Cuddy opened her mouth to answer, but he didn't give her a chance to do that. "Doesn't matter. It's a little after ten," he said flashing to the clock by the bedside. "And the doctor here – I'm using that term loosely for her – has ordered a blow job to cure my morning wood." He turned the camera back to her. "How does it feel?"
Her hand instantly went to his dick. Stroking him a few times, she offered almost lazily, "Hard."
The camera shifting to his face, he said, as though it were a secret, "That's why we don't let her play with the patients." He flipped the handheld back around. "I meant: are you nervous?"
She let go of his dick, so she could casually wave at it. "This little thing?"
There was a litany of things he wanted to say in that moment. He wanted to point out that his dick wasn't little, thank you very much. He wanted to ask her if she'd forgotten about how she'd nearly asked him to stop the first time they'd had sex, because she'd been so tight and tiny all those years ago; she hadn't been a virgin, he wanted to tell her, but her cunt hadn't been prepared for him that first time. He was big enough for that.
He wanted to remind her that this was for a sex tape, which meant that the whole point of this scene was to get him off. And referring to his large, humungous even (monstrous actually, he reassured himself), cock as little wasn't going to do that – ever.
But he never got beyond feeling the sting to his ego. The retorts were on the tip of his tongue, but his dick on the edge of hers. And when she slowly took him into her mouth, his own mouth seemed incapable then of saying anything more than "God yeah."
He nearly dropped the camera at the sudden heat around his cock. And seeing that, Cuddy instantly stopped what she was doing. As he struggled to get a better hold of camcorder, she told him in a stern voice, "Don't drop it."
"I didn't mean to –"
"If this doesn't get recorded," she said, jerking him off once more. His hips thrust his cock into her fist. "I'm going to be very disappointed," she finished.
He gripped the camera extra tightly. At that particular instant, he didn't really care what she wanted. But the fact of the matter was he too would be disappointed if he were unable to capture this moment perfectly. Their interests aligned, he could only do what she wanted. He just didn't like it, which was why he told her, "Yeah, well, let's see how good your grip is when I'm eating your pussy."
She didn't say anything in response. There was a zesty flash of devilishness in her gaze, but she didn't speak. She just covered his cock with her mouth once more. But that was okay, for many reasons obviously. In this case though, he really couldn't take issue, because even if she weren't sucking him off as noisily as possible, what her look suggested to him was that she'd seen his words as a challenge.
As her hands caressed his balls and thigh, he couldn't help but think he was the luckiest man alive.
IV. Session Five; The Patty-and-Selma Camera Mount
Her advantage was obvious. Nestled between her breasts was the camera. She had one hand on top of it as well to keep it from falling forward, but mainly her breasts kept everything in place. And that meant she could grab hold of his hair and move as freely as she wanted to without concern.
His head down and between her thighs, he tried not to call her a cheater. She tasted sweet against his tongue, her musk filling his nose in a way that soothed his irritation slightly. And he tried to focus on making her come, making her lose control so much that perhaps her grip would falter.
But then at the same time he realized: he wanted to get this on film. He didn't want her to drop the camera when she came or to ruin the shot, because the lens was face down in the mattress. Admittedly some part of him did want that, but if he succeeded there, then that choice would bite him in the ass in the end.
At that point he couldn't deny resenting that fact. House had no problem with her being the one in control; he did not enjoy it, however, when it felt as though there were no way for him to undermine her if he felt the need to (which was almost always). Trusting of her though he was, he preferred a balance of power between them. If said power were to shift to him completely, well, there was nothing wrong with that. But if their back and forth were gone in favor of her control, part of him railed against that. Because when that happened, he felt as though he'd been outsmarted. And when he hadn't even recognized the shift in dynamics, he really felt dumb.
There was nothing he could do about that now, however. He knew it. Denial was futile, as he saw the situation with perfect clarity. There was no way out, most importantly no option available that would give him control while still keeping the moment alive. In other words, if he objected, he would ruin this.
Her juices would run bitter to his taste buds; her thighs would press against him with less insistence before letting off of him entirely. And then the rest of her body would follow suit, pulling away while he was still trying to make her come. The moment not captured on film, if the camera kept rolling, it would only catch them getting into a fight.
Not the fun kind either.
Because the problem originated and admittedly existed solely in his mind, Cuddy wasn't going to be in an acquiescent mood (not that she ever was). She wouldn't see things the way he did, and even if she could vaguely understand his point, the conversation would turn from the issue at hand to why he was creating trouble and then… then there wasn't a chance in hell they'd have sex again any time soon.
His thoughts were tinged with frustration he knew was unwarranted. It was wrong to be annoyed that she'd bested him in the art of holding a camera during sex; it was idiotic even. And then to be so bothered by that fact that he was actually toying with the idea of saying something? To jeopardize their tape, their entire vacation to lay his insanity out on the table for her to peruse at her leisure? It was completely nuts and even crazier for him to be irritated over how she would possibly react to his insanity if discovered.
Therefore, bringing his issues to light could not happen. Though it killed him to let her win this one, that was precisely what he had to do: recognize that she had won and move on.
Her body almost made that task easily. Remnants of his agitation lasted, clung to his spirit like an angry stain that couldn't be washed away. But kissing her heated body, hearing her moan and whine, he could nearly forget everything of the past few minutes. It was his salvation.
His tongue slipped inside of her. The more he used his mouth for this, the less he could use it for, well, other things. She writhed against him, her pussy rubbing against his beard as harshly as she could without hurting either one of them. In all of his experience, when she did that, it meant she was close. Her orgasm near, he threw himself fully into the task of getting her off.
Gingerly, as though he were opening a precious package, his fingers parted her lips further. Of lesser importance, the act would make her pussy that much more visible for the camera; her slick folds were now better exposed for the shot, her clitoris the delightful center of the frame. But of greater importance in the moment was the fact that he could get his face closer to her opening; he could move his tongue inside of her further. And hitting new depths inside of her cunt, she came desperately, came begging.
Uttering his name over and over, she rocked against him. Her juices dribbled onto his tongue and along his chin. As she always did in this scenario, she was making a mess. And in her pleas, he felt the balance of power swing back in his favor. It was exhilarating.
Pulling his tongue from her, he quickly filled her empty pussy with his fingers. Pumping her in quick thrusts, he told her, "Now I know you can come harder than that."
She was beyond being able to speak. At least she couldn't say any more than "yes," his name, "please," or some combination of the three.
But he was okay with that. He didn't need to hear more in order to instruct, "Show me. Show me how hard you can come for me."
He didn't need her to say anything else, because she was, thankfully, all too eager to comply.
V. Reviewing the Dailies
They hooked up the camera to the television in the hotel room. Having never made a sex tape before, both had felt that perhaps it would be a good idea to see how the first day of filming had gone. Now settled on the couch together, he in his underwear, she in his t-shirt, they started playing back their morning and afternoon adventures.
For a while things progressed with ease. They ate their room service in silence save for the occasional remark that what they'd caught on film looked good.
Then they got to the doggy style portion of their day, and things just… did not look right.
"I really look like that from behind?"
There was a definite nod of the head. "Yes. You look good."
"My ass looks saggy."
"Your ass looks fine."
"It looks droopy."
"It does not."
He fought the temptation to go look at his own butt in the mirror. He was already way past the point of pathetic. He didn't need to build a million dollar mansion in the territory and call it his home.
"House," she said, putting a hand on top of his. "You look fine." He bristled at her choice of words, and that marked the end of her patience. "You do." It sounded like a threat somehow.
"Just fine though."
"I said you looked good," she snapped pulling her hand away from him. "But if you're going to eat all the crap that you do and not do any exercise –"
"That's a lie."
"Really?" she asked doubtfully. "What exactly do you –"
"I do you three times a week for at least thirty minutes a –"
"Sex doesn't count."
"It should. The amount of effort it takes to lift your giant ass –"
"And yet my backside isn't the one in question here."
He frowned. With resolution, he announced, "We have to redo this."
Her own lips split into a wide grin at his declaration.
"Well," she said calmly. "If we must."
VI. A Reshoot, An Outtake
It was much better like this. She was on her hands and knees in front of him, ass sticking out for him. Her legs parted just enough, he could see a sliver of her pussy and the thin sheen of their combined juices from their lovemaking lightly coating her lips. With one hand he guided his dick to her opening, slowly slipping inside her.
The camera in his free hand, instantly he wondered why they hadn't done this to begin with. Whereas his ass, such as it was in its current state, had blocked the view mostly before, now it was easy to capture all the action. His dick sliding past her pert ass, his cock being pulled out covered in her wetness and the remnants of his semen – it could all be seen in the screen of the camera.
Happily he thought then that this would be incredibly hot to watch – unlike before. He thrust into her over and over, hoping to catch as much of this on camera as he could. It looked and felt so good.
But distracted, he didn't notice Cuddy's own increased enthusiasm. Well, okay, he noticed, but his mind focused on the sex itself and what it looked like on camera, he didn't react. So when she shoved her hips back to meet his thrusts, he was taken by surprise. And unprepared…
He dropped the camera.
On her back.
Instantly she cried out in pain. As light as the camera was, she didn't anticipate having the thing slam into her, much less have a sharp edge dig into her skin.
"What the hell?"
House was torn with what to do. They were having sex, so part of him felt obligated to continue. He wanted to continue, his body already committed to that idea. But glancing down, he could see that she was bleeding. A jagged crimson line etched into her pale flesh ran crookedly along her lower back. It wasn't big – she wasn't going to need stitches, and in her own lust-caused haze, she probably didn't even realize that she'd been hurt. She was, after all, still thrusting back against him, fucking herself on his dick as he evaluated her wound. But looking at her bleeding, he could no longer be equally blind.
Reluctantly he pulled out from her, much to her dismay.
Groaning she asked irritably, "What are you doing? Don't stop!"
"You're bleeding." If he sounded just as annoyed, it was because he too hated that this had happened.
"So you're gonna have to save that kink for another day," he said snidely before heading for the hotel first aid kit.
Sighing, he couldn't help but think that perhaps the first shoot hadn't been that bad after all….
He uploaded the video to Megaupload the morning they were supposed to leave. Cuddy complained, of course, because she was the one doing all the packing and he was sitting on the unmade bed with her computer on his lap. But looking at her, he could tell that her irritation was superficial at best. The annoyance never quite reached her voice, and no matter what she said, she was smiling.
She was happy.
"Well, if you didn't insist we delete the tape –"
"You don't even know how I was going to finish that sentence."
She looked at him and then the irritation didn't seem quite so fake. "You were going to say, 'I could help you pack,' but we both know that's a lie. You wouldn't. So then you would have said we could be having more sex instead –"
"Yeah? And what's wrong with that?"
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe – just maybe there's a flight we have to catch?"
"I'm just saying: I could be of much better use to you if I weren't doing this."
"I told you I don't want a copy of that tape for anyone to find. That means your current use is the best –"
"You think someone's really going to find it?" he asked, even as he continued to do what she'd said she wanted.
He saw her, out of the corner of his eye, shrug. "If it's not Rachel or my mother or Marina –"
"Okay," he conceded calmly. "Maybe those people find it when we get back. But –"
"But we have a long flight ahead of us," she interrupted, stuffing a pair of shoes into one of the suitcases. "And that means you're going to be surrounded by people who are absolutely going to irritate you. And when you're irritated, you get arrogant, and when you're arrogant, you're flippant to and unbearable for most people to deal with. Which means, if one of those people who hate you is airport security –"
"Airport security is not going to watch our porn."
"You're right. Because it's not going to be there for them to find or for you to decide to show people when you feel like being obnoxious."
He raised an eyebrow. "You think I would show –"
"I'm not giving you the opportunity."
House was tempted to ask why she would even agree to make the damn thing if she was so afraid of someone else seeing it. Really, why let him keep a copy at all, even if it was online, if she thought he would show it to someone?
He didn't ask though. He could have, maybe even should have, but he thought that the answer was pretty obvious. By making him go through all these hoops just to get the tape back to the states, she was ensuring that he would value it.
That was stupid on her part. Really it was. She wasn't wrong to suggest he would be tempted to share it with others. Of course he was. Who wouldn't want to show off all the hot sex they'd had this week? But she would kill him if he did that. She would possibly actually murder him. And given that she'd thought to bring the camera to begin with, he couldn't betray her trust – not like that.
So after he uploaded the video to Megaupload, House deleted the file from his camera. Part of him felt a little queasy at the idea of the video being gone. A copy lingered in cyberspace, but that wasn't as reassuring as a physical copy in his possession. What could he do about that now though? He had no choice but to trust that it would be safe on the website.
Yet that didn't stop him about halfway through the flight from wanting to make sure. His nerves getting the better of him, he felt compelled to ask Cuddy for her computer. She shot him a warning look – like if he was thinking about playing the video for everyone on the airplane, she would strangle him in front of them without any remorse.
"I just want to make sure it's still there," he reassured her. And though she had that look like where would it go, House, she said nothing and handed the laptop over.
That was when it happened.
At first, when the site wouldn't load, he assumed it was a Wi-Fi problem. Airplanes didn't exactly have great Internet. Then again, her computer hadn't been the same since Cuddy had gone on a small trip with Arlene to Atlantic City and he'd illegally downloaded a porno called Airtight Granny the night before they'd left to tease her. Of course it was also possible that the plane had blocked Megaupload's website, as some public places had certain restrictions on what sites you could look at. But he didn't know what was going on.
And after a few minutes, he was curious enough to find out. Searching the Internet a little bit, he didn't find any information about the airline blocking particular sites. Since it wasn't like he had anything better to do, he widened his search and tried again.
He wished he hadn't.
Because at the top of the search results was a news article saying: Megaupload latest target of US anti-piracy campaign. Equally parts horrified and incredulous, he clicked the link quickly. He didn't want to believe what that title was making him think; he didn't want to even consider that something had gone wrong. But as he read the article, it was obvious that what he'd suspected was in fact the truth.
Megaupload was gone.
The government had shut it down.
Which meant their sex tape was lost, possibly for forever.
At some point Cuddy would want to see it or ask about the tape, and he would have to explain to her that the United States had stolen it. A vision of her face mingled with the image of their tape being labeled as evidence, but he could barely register the horror in that.
All he could think of was that their homemade porn was gone.
And when Cuddy asked him what was wrong, he was unable to respond. He probably should have told her, but he couldn't.
He was too busy trying not to cry.