So my 'Fic Pimp' gave me a prompt to write a story set back in Season 5, post 'Joy'. It started off as a one-shot and then grew in my head into something a little longer and considerably less fluffy, because apparently my mind won't allow me to do that with these two characters.

Anyway this is a weird hybrid of AU with some of the events that actually happened woven in for good measure. I hope it works!

Shore owns them.

Heading through the foyer, Cuddy made her way back to her office relieved that the day had finally come to an end, and that the weekend stretched out in front of her more or less work-free. Rubbing the back of her taut neck with one hand, she pushed open the door making a mental plan to eat and then slip into a hot bath before sinking into her bed, when she felt something long and solid blocking her progress across the room. Sighing to herself, she knew only one person could be this exasperating and turned to address the man sat on the sofa holding his cane out in front of her.

"House I'm not in the mood… Your patient's fine. Go home!"

Dropping his cane back down to the ground, he got up and followed her as she walked to her desk and unceremoniously plonked herself down in her chair, mimicking the action as he sat opposite her.

"So I was thinking…" Cuddy snorted derisively as she searched through one of her drawers. Ignoring her House continued. "It's your birthday tomorrow and seen as you hated the edible underwear I bought you last year…"

"That was you?!" she asked incredulously, and then rolled her eyes at him. "Of course it was you."

"The look on your face was hil…" The current expression on his boss' face could have turned milk sour so he decided to clear his throat and sidestep. "Anyway… I was thinking about what I should get you and I settled on this."

Pulling an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket, he pushed it across the desk towards her. Picking it up Cuddy eyed him suspiciously. House didn't do random acts of kindness.

"So what is it? Anthrax?"

"The whole idea of giving someone a present is that they open it."

Somewhat nervously the Dean of Medicine ran her finger under the sealed flap of the envelope and pulled out the contents, regarding them with increasing confusion as she thumbed through the pages and then lifted her head to look at him again.

"You know House, I'm really happy for you that you don't have herpes, hepatitis, chlamydia and all the other things you've been tested for here, but I have no idea what that's got to do with me… What do you want me to do? Frame them?" Holding them up in the air for emphasis, she regarded him blankly. Whatever he was up to this time, he'd lost her on this one.

As if annoyed by her stupidity, he expelled the air from his lungs and rested his chin on top of his cane.

"I know you're not always the brightest spark, but I thought even you would be a bit quicker than that." Still she looked at him blankly. "That's not the present, I am… Come to mine tomorrow and we'll celebrate your birthday with a bang. Literally." With her brow furrowed Cuddy lifted one leg onto her desk and then the other, crossing the second over the first before throwing her head back and laughing heartily. Across the way from her House looked puzzled. "A lesser man would feel hurt."

"It's a lovely offer and all, but I think I'll pass."

"Why?" he inquired with an urgency that made her question if he was actually being serious. "I know you're not doing anything."

"I'm spending the day with my sister and her family."

"No you're not… I heard you telling her yesterday that you'd see her next week."

Mentally chastising herself she remembered him bursting into her office the day before, just as she was finishing off a phone conversation with Julia. Naturally he'd remember her parting words to someone else when most of the time whatever she said to him went in one ear and out of the other. The truth was she had no real plans. There was a bottle of wine in the fridge and a book she'd been planning to start, but other than that her thirty-ninth birthday would be spent in much the same way others had been spent in the past few years; on her own. It wasn't exactly unintentional. Spending the day with her Mother would leave her open to incessant nagging about ending up an old spinster. Spending it with her sister and her family was another subtle reminder that another year had ticked by, and she was still childless.

"I know you're bored because Wilson's heading off to see family this weekend, but if you're desperate for company why don't you call a hooker?"

"I'm not desperate and I don't want a hooker," House said slowly, his blue eyes penetrating hers and emphasising his sincerity. "Things have been weird between us since you stuck your tongue down my throat."

"I stuck my tongue down your throat?!"

"Fine!" he conceded with a blasé shrug. "We were both equally responsible for the tonsil hockey."

Pausing to evaluate the situation, Cuddy swept her legs off the table and scrutinised the man sat a couple of feet in front of her. Part of her couldn't quite believe that she hadn't already physically removed him from the building, let alone her office and yet she couldn't deny he had a point. Things had been strained between them ever since they'd kissed, not least of all because they both knew it could have gone further. No matter how much they'd buried it, or pretended it only existed in the past, the attraction was still there and had almost bubbled over the night she'd lost Joy. Nevertheless sleeping with him would mean playing with fire and risking being burned, no matter how striking the flame was to her.

"So let me get this straight. You want us to have sex so things can go back to normal?"

"Precisely," he nodded in response. "I let you screw me senseless for your birthday, we get whatever this is out of our systems, and then we go back to being boss lady and model employee."

It was straight-forwardness to his tone that annoyed Cuddy. He appeared to have it all worked out with no real thought for either the possible implications, or even her feelings on the matter. Curious to see where he was going with it though, she humoured him.

"Ok, so in the unlikely event I did go through with this, what's stopping you from announcing the fact on the hospital tannoy as soon as you came back to work?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a group email," he cracked with a wry smirk. Just as she'd suspected he was messing

"Because me losing my job is hilarious, isn't it House?" Ignoring him as she sorted the files on her desk and put a couple of folders in her bag, she finally regarded him again when he coughed to get her attention. "Still here then?"

All sign of mirth evaporating from his features, he returned her gaze with a similar intensity.

"I've got no intention of telling anyone. It'd be between us."

"And you'd seriously be able to resist the urge to tell Wilson?" she asked with genuine scepticism. Him not divulging the details to their mutual friend seemed completely unrealistic. In his mind half of the fun would be re-counting the juicy details to a semi-willing audience.

"I never told him about the fertility injections." Cuddy's mouth opened as if she was about to speak and then closed again in quick succession, obviously deciding to censor whatever she was going to say. Feeling the need to fill the awkward silence House pressed on. "Besides, you've got plausible deniability on your side. If I tell someone we had sex and you deny it, who are they going to believe?... Everybody knows I can be creative with the truth."

Biting her lip, Cuddy looked away and ran a hand through her hair. That they were even discussing this seemed surreal, but she couldn't deny that he right. She may not be able to get away with lying to him, but she was damn sure she could be convincing enough to fool anybody else should he not be able to keep it to himself. Despite this, she still wasn't entirely clear on his motives.

"What would you be getting out of this?"

"You mean aside from the fact I'd get to see you with your ankles behind your ears?" House asked amusedly, causing her to push back her chair, pick up her bag and get to her feet in disgust. She was tired, confused and had no intention of sticking around to listen to him talk about treating her like a piece of meat.

"We're done here, House!"

Just as she was about to coast past him, his hand encircled her wrist and pulled her back to face him.

"I'm sorry… That was uncalled for."

"You're damn right it was!" his boss agreed, pulling her arm away from him and perching on the desk next to him. "I'm not one of the prostitutes you pay to do whatever you want to."

Dropping his head, he focused his attention on a rough patch of skin at the side of his index finger and rubbed his thumb over it feeling like a complete asshole. But being around her these days made him nervous, and when he was nervous his mouth got into gear before his brain did.

"You honestly think I'm not well aware of that?" Looking up he saw some of the tension leave her shoulders. "I need this job, Cuddy, and for me to stay in this job means you have to stay in yours as well… If we don't deal with whatever this is between us, one way or another it's going to end up blowing up in both our faces." Rising to his feet, he rounded the chair and stood in front of her. "I'll be at home all evening after seven tomorrow. Come round, or don't. It's your decision."

Without waiting for her to respond, House turned on his heel and limped out of the office, letting the door slam noisily behind him and leaving Cuddy alone to gather her thoughts.

For the umpteenth time in her life she knew she'd be having a restless night because of him.

Restlessly House looked at the clock on top of the mantelpiece, and scratched the top of his head disappointedly. For over two hours he'd sat on the sofa and fidgeted as he watched seven 'o' clock become eight and now nine, slowly reconciling himself to the fact that Cuddy wasn't coming and feeling increasing like a moron. Of course she wasn't! Either she had decided he wasn't being serious and this was another prank in a catalogue of practical jokes he'd played against her over the years, or she knew his invitation was genuine, and this was her opportunity get him back for all the game playing. Whatever the reason he felt surprisingly dejected. That flicker of 'something' he'd seen in her eyes the night before had made him hope that she'd give his offer serious consideration, but clearly that wasn't the case.

Wearily House pulled himself to his feet and headed to the kitchen to grab a beer. With Wilson unavailable to torment over the weekend he may as well get blind drunk and crawl into bed semi-conscious and alone.

Just as his fingers clamped around the fridge door a quiet knocking made his head snap towards the direction it was coming from. Before he knew what he was doing he found him himself scrambling towards the noise, settling his hand on the door handle and revealing the woman on the other side of the threshold.

"Hey," Cuddy offered nervously, her arm dropping back down to her side as if she'd been intending to knock again.

"Hey."

"I'm sorry I'm late…" She'd initially intended to continue and give him an excuse for her tardiness, but in truth she wasn't keen on him knowing she'd spent several hours getting ready, trying on various outfits and then physically backing away from her own front door twice. That information would either hand him ammunition to use against her and/or her indecision would hurt him, neither of which appealed to her.

"I said any time after seven," he shrugged in response, attempting to appear casual when in reality he felt anything but.

"In that case are you going to let me in?"

Nodding his ascent, he stepped back and watched her step into the apartment, inhaling her perfume as she walked past him and fighting the urge to pinch himself. She'd actually decided to come.

Waiting for him to close the door and turn back, Cuddy held out the bottle of wine she'd brought with her.

"I thought I'd bring this." Taking it from her she watched him scrutinize the label. No doubt, along with everything else he was a wine expert too. "I have no idea if it's any good… One of the donors owns a vineyard in France."

"Because you'd have to be drunk to nail me, right?"

"No!" she protested, instantly concerned that she'd somehow said something wrong.

"Relax! I was joking Cuddy… We both know it's the other way around."

Sticking her tongue into her cheek, she shook her head angrily. She'd half expected this was some kind of ruse to embarrass her.

"If this is all about you playing mind games with me, I'm going home."

Starting to turn away, she felt his palm rest on her upper arm.

"Expecting me to not act like a jerk is like asking me not to breathe." Dropping his hand back by his side, he gulped when she looked up at him seemingly unimpressed. Yet again he'd opened his mouth before thinking. "I'm not playing games with you."

"I didn't come here so you could humiliate me."

Part of him wanted to ask her why she did come, but it hardly seemed like the time.

"I know… I'm not trying to do that. I want you here." Seeing her expression soften, he gestured towards the sofa. "Take a seat and I'll open this and get a couple of glasses." Again Cuddy hesitated and looked towards the exit. "Please."

Taking a deep breath she accepted the invitation and began to unfasten her jacket, as he ambled towards the kitchen and set the bottle down on the counter, grabbing the glasses and then reaching into the drawer for the corkscrew. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cuddy throw her coat over the back of the sofa and sit down, one leg crossing over the other as she pulled her black dress down and rested her head on hand appearing to be deep in thought. She always looked great, but tonight she was simply stunning and in truth that him feel both nervous and inadequate. Possible reasons why she would make such an effort for him excited and frightened him in equal measure.

Picking up the full glasses he took them through, gave her one and sat down, careful to leave a conspicuous gap between them. For a long time both of them just stared at the television screen, a palpable awkwardness reflected in their unwillingness to break the silence and their closed body language.

"You eaten?" House finally asked. "I can make a sandwich if you haven't."

"You didn't mention anything about dinner so I grabbed something at home."

Internally he kicked himself. He probably should have made reservations at a restaurant. Cuddy definitely enjoyed being wined and dined, but wouldn't that have complicated matters even more? For a start there was the risk that they'd be seen out together by somebody else who worked at the hospital, and then there was the danger of her misconstruing the intentions of what he'd proposed if he'd invited her out for a meal first. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about pursuing a relationship with her before, because he had. Many, many times. Even though he'd tell anybody who would listen that she was the spawn of Satan, he had to admit, to himself at least, that she was one of the few people on the planet that he actually liked, and that was before he factored in how much he was physically attracted to her. However fear of rejection and a deep-seated dread that their delicate balance would be irretrievably altered prevented him from taking things further: the daily sniping and flirting would have to suffice if it meant maintaining the status quo. And then it hit him: if things panned out as he'd intended they were about to have sex. The butterflies in his stomach suddenly fluttered wildly, making him greedily gulp down the contents of his glass.

Less than a foot away from him, Cuddy drummed her fingers on the arm of the sofa and tentatively bit her lip. She felt like she'd been propelled back over twenty years and was on her first date back at high school. It was preposterous! They'd known each other for nearly two decades and yet here they were behaving like a pair of school kids, except was that really any different to how they'd always behaved around each other? Whenever she was around House he always seemed determined to crack away at that professional mask she put on for everyone, but what's more, in spite of her declarations to the contrary, she enjoyed the fact that someone had the gall to challenge her; to chip away at the surface and express an interest in the person beneath the façade. Whether it was intentional or not, he reminded her she was more than just the Dean of her hospital. She knew she was attractive, maybe not classically so, but she'd had enough compliments from former partners and prospective suitors to know that she could hold a guy's attention on both a cerebral and aesthetic level. With House though, it was something different. They'd argue, he'd look at her with his steely gaze, or he'd kiss her like he had a couple of weeks ago and she'd forget that anybody else existed. In those moments everything else melted away.

Growing restless, she set her glass down on the coffee table and hauled herself to her feet, knowing full well his eyes were on her as she meandered to the piano and ran her fingers along the shiny surface, before lowering herself onto the bench and lifting the lid encasing the keys. Cautiously she played a couple of notes and briefly glanced across at him, stifling a grin as he tried to ignore her and continued to watch the TV, even if it was plainly obvious that he was somewhat irritated. House may enjoy quoting Marx when it came to other people's property on occasion, but when someone else laid claim to his things, he wasn't quite so eager to share. In fact she wondered if anybody else had ever played his piano before. Making a feeble attempt to thrash out 'Ode to Joy", she jolted when he cleared his throat above her and interrupted, somehow having made it across the room without her noticing.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm playing the piano."

"No you're not. You're making my ears bleed," he retorted brusquely. Rolling her eyes, Cuddy shifted along the bench and looked on as he sat next to her, dramatically cracked his knuckles and then proceeded to play the first eight bars seamlessly. When he finished he turned and gave her a smug grin. "That's playing."

"Nobody likes a show off House."

"Oh we both know that's not true!" Smiling as she shook her head at his bluster, he changed tack. "Put your hand on mine and I'll show you how to play it properly."

Reticent at first, she did as he asked and mirrored his movements, the contact making the nerve endings buzz where their skin met, even after he stopped and she pulled her hand away.

"I didn't know you could play at all."

"My Mom sent me for lessons when I was eight… She'd read something about musical aptitude going hand-in-hand with academic success, so whilst Julia went to dance class I spent a couple of hours a week being told I was useless by a little, old lady who always smelt faintly of urine."

"Oh I know this one! She fattened you up and then made you get in the oven. Are the Brothers Grimm still on hand to write your biography?"

"I'm glad you find one of the more traumatic parts of my childhood so amusing," she responded with mock seriousness, her eyebrows raised in a challenge.

"What happened?" House inquired with real interest. He'd collated a lot of information about his boss over the years, but rarely had she talked to him directly about her childhood.

"My teacher died."

"Well is it any wonder when you play like that?"

Narrowing her eyes in annoyance, she hit him playfully on the arm.

"So who taught you to play, smartass?"

"No-one. I taught myself."

"Of course you did," she breathed unsurprised. Sometimes his natural gifts were incredibly infuriating. Everything she had she'd had to work for, whereas he'd been able to more or less coast through his professional life, safe in the knowledge his genius would get him through.

"Music is all math. It's actually pretty easy."

Seeing that he was beginning to lose her, he ran the back of his hand along the length of the keyboard and burst into a jaunty rendition of 'Happy Birthday', much to the chagrin of the woman sat next to him.

"Congratulations on getting so old your birthday cakes are now technically fire hazards."

"Just for the record, if this is you trying to seduce me House, it's not going well," she responded conspiratorially, her tone that of someone who was revealing a secret.

Angling himself so he was facing her, the diagnostician re-lowered the lid over the piano keys and looked her over appreciatively. He'd known her forever, but that didn't lessen the impact of how breathtakingly beautiful she was to him. His heart hammered in his chest and he suddenly realised his throat was dry. It didn't matter if on reflection this perhaps wasn't one of his best ideas, tonight he wanted this. He wanted her.

"Then I guess I'll have to try harder."

Leaning forward he found himself meeting her halfway, their lips brushing against each other exploratively at first until the kiss intensified, his tongue jostling with hers as he fought the urge to pick her up, lay her on the piano and fuck her there and then. The truth was he wanted her to enjoy this as much as he hoped he was going to, and if that meant exercising a modicum of self-control and christening the new sheets he'd put on the bed that afternoon, then so be it. She wasn't one of the women he paid to facilitate his sexual gratification much less frequently than he led everyone to believe, she mattered. She mattered. Just as that thought echoed through his mind, he heard himself groan into her mouth as her hand snaked up the inside of his thigh, and rested painfully close to his burgeoning manhood. Reluctantly he pulled away to examine what she was doing, and then looked up to see the lust in her eyes. If he'd had any doubts that his attraction wasn't reciprocated, they vanished immediately.

"I want my present now," Cuddy whispered, her eyes darting from his to his lips.

Getting to his feet, House held his hand out for her to take and led her through the apartment to the bedroom, all the while his blood thundering through his veins. He'd fantasised about this moment so many times, and now that it was really happening he was having a hard time getting to grips with the fact this wasn't a well-rehearsed daydream he liked to indulge in as he pondered the diagnosis of a patient.

Stopping and turning to face her when they stood beside the bed, he watched Cuddy remove his shirt, revelling in the feeling of her fingertips on his chest, before her hands disappeared behind her back and unzipped her dress, shrugging it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. Taking in the sight before him, House's breath caught in the back of his throat. He knew she took care of herself, but stood there in front of him in just her underwear he couldn't stop thinking about how perfect she was. Disarmingly so.

Following the line of his gaze as it swept the length of her, she looked down at herself sheepishly.

"I'm not twenty one anymore."

"You're way hotter now."

"You don't have to flatter me, House. You're definitely going to get laid."

"I'm not. Seriously," he insisted, noting the uncertainty fleeting across her features. "But if it makes you feel better, you still have a huge ass."

Begrudgingly she smiled at him and stepped closer. It was safe to say that anybody who paid as much attention to someone's backside as he did to hers then they were more of a fan than a detractor.

"You love my ass."

"Didn't say, I didn't."

Craning his neck forward he reclaimed her lips and palmed her ass to emphasize his point, reaching behind him and turning off the lamp when she began to unbuckle his belt. Baffled, Cuddy pulled away and regarded him with a frown, realisation finally hitting her when she saw his arm hanging protectively over his thigh. Defiantly she reached behind him and turned the light back on.

"Cuddy...," he warned, a mixture of anger and embarrassment making him focus on a knot in the floorboard his toe was poking at.

"It's me." Cupping his cheek, she forced him to look at her so he could see she meant what she was saying. "I know what your leg looks like and I don't care. You're not hiding it from me. You don't have to."

Popping the button on his jeans, she pushed them over his hips and let them slide to the ground, her fingers gently caressing his thigh as her azure eyes burnt into his. Making it clear she wasn't going to back down, she sensed him relaxing and dipped her fingers beneath the elastic on his shorts, allowing them too to fall to the ground and then be kicked out of the way after he'd stepped out of them. Now completely naked he sat down on the bed, pushing the covers out of the way and settled himself against the headboard, looking on in awe as Cuddy removed her bra and panties and stepped out of her heels, before climbing onto the bed and straddling him.

Ghosting delicate pecks along his jawline, she smirked into him.

"This is weird," she confessed, her teeth nipping his ear as he swept her dark curls out of the way and kissed the sensitive skin that joined her neck and shoulder.

"If I said that you'd have slapped me by now."

"I didn't say it was bad," she laughed, enjoying the attention he was starting to lavish on her breasts, and reaching in between them to grip the base of his cock, before sliding her palm up to the tip and repeating the action. Appreciatively House moaned and leant his head back, his eyes closing tightly as he relished the sensation.

"Definitely not bad."

Adjusting herself so she was directly over him, Cuddy sank down and gasped as he entered her, her hands bracing herself against the headboard either side of him as she lowered herself further.

"Ok?" he mumbled, trying to concentrate on anything else but losing control. She felt amazing, but he needed to know she was alright.

"Yeah," she breathed back, her forehead coming to rest against his. "I forgot how big you are."

"No you didn't."

Reaching behind her he ran his digits soothingly down her back.

"There's been a whole lot of water under the bridge since then."

"And yet we both remember everything."

It was second nature for Cuddy to tell House that he was wrong, but in this instance she couldn't and wouldn't. The night they'd spent together back at Michigan was permanently tattooed in her mind and it was pointless negating such a satisfying, and if she was honest, meaningful experience. If it hadn't happened then the man who was currently pleasuring her would almost definitely be a distant memory, and the thought of a House-shaped hole in her life suddenly made her feel incredibly sad. He may drive her mad on a daily basis, but she thrived on the knowledge that her belief in him allowed him to exercise his gift, and because of that thousands of people were still able to live their lives with their loved ones after being deemed 'lost causes' by other doctors. In general their lives were as bound together, as literally as they physically were in that moment.

Slowly she began to move her hips, whilst House gripped her waist and gently teased her nipples with his tongue, delighting in the breathy moans he was soliciting from her. For a long time they settled into a steady rhythm, neither of them eager for it to end until Cuddy's movements became more frantic, her fingers digging into his shoulders, as his hands slipped lower to her ass for greater leverage and his own hips slammed into hers. Inevitably she came, calling his name and providing the stimulus for him to glide over the edge too as she continued to grind against him. Lazily they embraced and Cuddy climbed off him, rolling onto her back and getting under the covers to avoid the chill of the air, as House meanwhile slumped further down into the bed next to her.

For long minutes the only noise was the sound of their breathing returning to normal, both of them staring at the bedroom ceiling thoughtfully.

"I should go home."

"You don't have to."

Turning her head to look at him, she pursed her lips contemplatively.

"That wasn't part of the deal."

"I'm not asking you to move in!" he rebuked, rolling his eyes animatedly. "It's late. What's wrong with two friends sharing a bed?"

"And I suppose you and Wilson do this all of the time?"

"Absolutely! We always make sure to leave time for special cuddles too," House cracked, drawing giggles from the woman next to him. "If it makes you feel better I'll draw a line down the centre of the bed. If I cross the border you can use that shotgun you carry around in your purse." With a deep intake of breath Cuddy relented and rolled back towards him, planting her head on his shoulder and moulding her legs around his. "Aaaand welcome to Mexico!"

"Can't let Wilson have all the fun, can I?"

In response House wrapped his arm her waist and kissed her forehead, feeling strangely content. He had no idea what he'd expected to have happened after they'd had sex, but with this he was more than happy. It seemed almost oddly 'domestic', something which generally sent him running for the hills, and yet here he was, snuggling into his boss and oldest friend without a care in the World. Perhaps he should be panicking. There would no doubt be consequences, but right now he was fully prepared to live in the moment and flip the bird to whatever tomorrow held.

Pinching her ass to get her attention, he looked at her and grinned.

"At least Wilson doesn't have cold feet."

Stifling a yawn with one hand, Cuddy wandered over to his bookcase and drank a sip of the coffee she'd just made. A few minutes earlier she'd woken up in a strange bed with a warm body lying next to her breathing softly, and then remembering the night before her first instinct was to panic. She'd slept with House. Not only that, but she'd spent the night with him. In the cold, harsh light of day the temptation was to run; to leave his apartment and pretend this had never happened. How could she have been stupid enough to leave herself open to the inevitable ridicule he'd fire at her in the upcoming weeks? She'd fallen for the trick and now she was going to have to face the consequences, because this had to be about him gaining some sort of power over her, didn't it? He'd never denied that was how he operated, and yet she'd always seen something more in him: something decent. If she hadn't she wouldn't have put herself on the line for him time and time again.

Taking a deep breath, she'd looked at him as he laid on his stomach and snored quietly. He'd been nice to her the night before, tender even when they'd had sex, and before they'd both drifted off to sleep they'd chatted and laughed about college. It felt good to be able to share his company and not have to put the barriers up for fear of him spotting a chink in her armour. Ever since he'd turned up on her doorstep the day the adoption had fallen through and kissed her, there'd been a shift in their relationship. Maybe even before that, when Amber died and Wilson had backed away from him. The whole purpose of last night was to get things back to normal, but in reality she wasn't sure if that was what she wanted. If she ran there was a good chance she'd never know.

Now she found herself perusing the various tomes, textbooks and medical journals in a multitude of languages that adorned his shelves. Adjusting a book that was facing the wrong way around, she frowned when she saw the title and the name on the spine, just as a creaking floorboard alerted her to the fact she was no longer alone.

"How did you get hold of a copy of my Great-Grandfather's book?"

"Found it in a bookstore a few years ago," House answered sleepily, scratching his bare chest and unashamedly looking her up and down. "Why are you wearing my shirt?"

"I needed coffee. It was the first thing I could find to put on."

Tutting like a disappointed school teacher, he smiled at her matter-of-factly and glanced at her naked legs, making a familiar warmth spread to her core.

"Unacceptable I'm afraid. Stealing is a serious offence in New Jersey. You're gonna have to take it off."

"Because you've never 'borrowed' anything of mine before, have you?"

"Not your clothes…. Well, not to wear anyway."

Cuddy grimaced. If she'd needed confirmation that he'd stolen her underwear the time he'd gone into her home to investigate a case, there it was. Regardless, she knew he was indirectly pressing for a repeat performance of last night, and that wasn't going to happen. Certainly not now anyway. She was going to finish her coffee, ask if she could shower, get dressed, go home and get her bearings.

"House, I need to go home. I've got a presentation to plan for tomorrow."

"Boring! Lose the shirt and I promise you'll have way more fun here."

"I can't," she dismissed, draining the contents of her cup and placing it down on the side. "Some of us have responsibilities that we take seriously."

"You can run that hospital blindfolded. Screw your responsibilities!" The forcefulness in his voice startled her, as did underlying hurt in his eyes. "You used to know how to enjoy yourself."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Cuddy spat back, folding her arms across herself as she became increasingly self-conscious about her attire. If this was developing into an argument it wasn't exactly going to be easy for her to make a dignified exit. "Last night was meant to be a one-time thing. We agreed. Us working and sleeping together isn't practical… In fact it's insane!" Running a hand through her hair, she grunted with frustration. "I'm not saying it wasn't nice…"

"Nice?... Wow, Cuddy! You really know how to make a guy feel special."

Noticing him rub his thigh, she watched as he limped to the side table, grabbed his orange pill bottle, and dry swallowed some of the contents, before placing it back down.

"What do you want from me?" she inquired, her tone softening. She really didn't have the stomach to shout at him when she knew he was in pain.

Meeting her gaze he stared back, appearing to be considering his answer for what seemed like an eternity.

"I really enjoyed last night and I'm not going to lie about wanting it to happen again, but if you don't want to stay here, then fine…" He shrugged to emphasise his point. "I'm a big boy, and I'm not about to push you into anything." He paused and regarded her almost mournfully. "Everything you do is determined by what other people think of you. For once, do something you want to do, rather than what you think you should."

Straight away she opened her mouth to respond, however the words weren't forthcoming. What was she supposed to say? That he was wrong? That he was saying it out of spite? She couldn't because it wasn't true in either case. If it was possible to love and hate someone simultaneously for seeing you as you really are, he was the almost certainly the living embodiment of it for her. Strangely she almost felt relieved.

With nowhere left to hide, Cuddy slowly began to unbutton the shirt because she wanted to.