"You've got to be kidding me," Cuddy said, as the statuesque woman standing in the doorway came into focus. "What the fuck is she doing here, House?"

"I live here," Dominika said, gaping at her. She was as surprised to see Cuddy as Cuddy was to see her.

Cuddy squirmed out from under House and—in one brisk move—yanked the sheets off the bed to wrap herself in. This left House completely naked.

He grabbed a pillow, covered himself.

"So Mrs. Doctor Cuddy is the mystery lady on the phone," Dominika said, musingly. (If she was moved by the sight of House naked, she didn't show it.)

Cuddy turned to House, hoping against hope that he would deny it.

"House?"

"It's true that she lives here," House said, scratching his chin. "But it's actually a funny story. . ."

Cuddy leapt from the bed.

"When will I learn?" she said, more disgusted with herself than with him. She hastily grabbed her clothing from the floor, and stormed past Dominika into the hallway.

"Cuddy!" House yelled. He got up, went to follow her, before realizing that:

a. He was completely naked.

b. He wasn't going to get very far without his cane, which had rolled under the bed.

"Shit!"

"Makes sense," Dominika was saying to herself. "In my country, when man drives car through house it is almost proposal of marriage."

####

Of course, he would've told Cuddy about Dominika had he known she was coming. But she surprised him.

Since the night that Cuddy had slowly taken off her sweatshirt for him—an image that provided a week's worth of jerk-off material for House—he'd been begging to come visit her.

She kept saying no, intuitively knowing that once they saw each other in person, all bets would be off. (House knew this, too. It was one of the many reasons he was clamoring for a reunion.)

But the carnal element of their relationship—always one of its more distinguishing features—was beginning to creep into their conversations on a regular basis.

One night, they got into a vivid discussion of each other's favorite body parts.

House chose Cuddy's smile.

She snorted.

"I'm serious," he protested.

"Okay, besides my smile—you liar," she said, laughing.

"Well, I could write entire sonnets about your ass," he admitted.

Cuddy chose House's long, nimble hands. ("Although your tongue would be a close second.")

This, led to their first real foray video sex, which was satisfying, as far as such things went, but hardly the same as the real deal. And from that point, every subsequent conversation was essentially a prologue to more of the same.

One day, Cuddy was totally distracted at a meeting at the hospital—she was thinking about House's turned-on voice guiding her hands, telling her precisely where to touch herself—and the thought aroused her so much she had to excuse herself and go to the bathroom.

"This is ridiculous," she said, splashing some cold water on her face and contemplating her reflection in the mirror.

So she called her friend Deb to see if she wouldn't mind having a spare 5-year-old for the night and booked a train ticket to New Jersey.

That night, House called her on videochat but no one answered.

So he called her cell.

"Is your internet down or something?" he said anxiously. "Skype isn't picking up."

"We don't need Skype," she said.

"Of course we do," he said. "How am supposed to write that second verse of my sonnet about your ass if I can't see it?"

"Then see it," she said.

"How can I. . ." and then it dawned on him.

He opened his front door.

She was standing there, with an overnight bag, smiling triumphantly at him.

"Oh my fucking God," he said.

He grabbed her and hugged her for a long time and then she was wrapping her legs around him and he was half-carrying, half-dragging her to the bedroom. And it was House's actual mouth and actual tongue all over her this time and his actual hands on her ass and hers on his and they both kept saying, "you feel so good. . .you feel so good . . ." and there was no time to explain: "Hey baby. One tiny thing. The INS is breathing down my neck and I am currently cohabitating with my Green Card Wife—the very wife I brought into the picture to punish you for breaking up with me, because nobody breaks Gregory House's heart and emerges unscathed."

Which led to the situation House was in right now.

######

Now wearing pajama bottoms and a half-buttoned shirt, he limped after her in the hallway.

"Stop, please," he said, out of breath.

He was supremely easy to run away from, but the doctor in Cuddy—and, yes, the part of her that loved him—couldn't stand to see the pain on his face as he hobbled after her.

So she stopped, just shy of the elevator.

"This was a mistake," she said.

"No," he said. "Please let me explain."

"What's there to explain? You figured you were already married, why not enjoy the conjugal benefits as well?"

"We're not sleeping together," he said firmly. "INS got suspicious, threatened to throw me back in jail, so we're living together for appearance sake only. I swear."

Cuddy looked at him, suspiciously.

"You're not sleeping with her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why not?"

"Yeah, she's hot. She's living in your apartment. Why on earth aren't you having sex with her?"

"Wait. You want me to be having sex with her?"

"No. It's just that the fact that you're not makes me think you actually have feelings for her."

"Wrong," House said.

"Then, once again I ask, why not? You have no problem having sex with a busload of skanky hookers."

"Because I'm . . . married to her," House said softly. "And there's only one woman I ever want to be married to and having sex with."

Fucking bastard.

"Really?" she said, her voice softening.

"Really," he said, smiling, knowing he had won.

He leaned down and kissed her.

"Now come back to bed and let's finish what we started."

######

The next morning, House woke up—happily sore from the previous night's activities—walked into the kitchen and was horrified by what he saw: Cuddy and Dominika sitting at the kitchen table together, drinking coffee and eating toast.

"Morning," they said, in unison.

"Dominika, didn't you have that, uh, thing. . .you needed to be doing this morning?" he said.

"What thing?" she said, dumbly.

"You know. That thing we talked about? Over at INS?"

"There is no thing."

House rolled his eyes.

"Dominika, get the fuck out," he said, annoyed.

She got up.

"If you wanted Miss Dominika to leave why you not just say so?"

"I'm saying it now," he said.

After Dominika left, he poured himself a cup of coffee and kissed Cuddy on the top of her head.

"Hi," he whispered.

"You didn't have to be rude to her," Cuddy said.

"What, you two are besties now?"

"She's not that terrible," Cuddy said, with a slight smile. "She's actually happy we're back together. She said—and I quote— 'you fill up hole in Meester House's heart.'"

"There's another hole I'd like to fill up," he said, ogling her. She swatted him with her napkin.

He grinned, dropped a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster.

"Wait," he said, after a minute. "Did you just say we were back together?"

Cuddy considered it for a second.

"I guess I did," she said. "Although I'm sure I'll live to regret it."

"What's today's date?" he said, cheerfully.

"June 22. Why?"

"Two more months," he said. "I have to live with the Ukrainian mensa for two more months and then I can move to D.C. and come live with you and Rachel."

"Whoa," Cuddy said. "Isn't that little fast?"

"Fast?" House said. "What else do you need to know about me? What side of the bed I sleep on? You know that already. How I like my eggs in the morning? You know that, too. Is there anything left that we don't know about each other?"

"Fair enough," she said. "It's just a big step. Even when we were dating here in Jersey we didn't officially live together."

"That's because we lived 10 minutes away from each other," House said. "And it was convenient for me to have a place to stay when you got sick of me."

"Oh please. Sometimes you needed to retreat to the man cave with Wilson on your own."

"Once a guy has been to jail, the allure of the man cave is rather diminished," he said, kissing the back of her neck.

His toast popped. He put it on a plate and sat next to her.

"And what about Wilson?" Cuddy said. (As if to prove House's earlier point, she handed him the blackberry jam before he even asked for it.)

"What about him?"

"I can't imagine you two living in separate states. I'll feel like Yoko Ono."

"He can visit us on weekends and major holidays," he said, adding, "We can even buy him those sheets he likes, with the dinosaurs on them."

Cuddy rested her chin in her hand and contemplated him.

"I'll have to ask Rachel," she said.

And House beamed.