AN: I don't own House. But I do own a certain girl. Just to make it clear at where the story is right now, House is married to Cuddy. But he's thinking of a certain girl. Who will be revealed in the next chapter. Enjoy! Any suggestions/comments/concerns/random rambles are welcome!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He lay in bed with the image, the damn beautiful image of her, inside of his eyelids. Wondering if he's made the right choice, he opens his eyes to the disappointing sight of the ceiling. The right choice was of course making the decision everyone had expected him to make.

Harshly, suddenly, his eyelids close once more as he longs to see her. A few moments pass and the illusion is no longer enough for him. Frustrated that his imagination could not manipulate the image of her to do anything more than smile at him and call his name, he raises his hand to block his view and begins to open his eyes. His body seems to be struggling through the task as parting with her face is torture. He feels his eyelashes tremble against his fingers as the light comes shining through the cracks between each digit.

She's with her mother. Almost all of her time is spent with her mother. And almost all of his time is spent missing her. As for the rare occurrences when he doesn't miss her, it is because she isn't with her mother; she's with him. He is always the one missing her, left to love her from far and away.

But for her, it's more complicated, more difficult. The burden of not being with either him or her mother is always upon her, as they are never together. Despite all of that, their constant separation doesn't trouble her as much as having them together would. When they are together there is never yelling, which begs the question, why they can't communicate? She doesn't dare ask that question though. The answer will require them to talk.

The secret question is a common thought between all three of them, but no one knows that anyone else knows about it. Lying in bed still, he asks himself the secret question silently in his head. Adjusting his bad leg to hang over the bed right after he moves the 'better one', he tries not to groan at the pain. It would be bad to wake his wife, the pregnant lady.

And despite all the trouble he's taken, the pregnant lady wakes up anyhow.

'Have you been up all this time?'

'I was trying not to wake you'

'Oh. I only woke up to go to the bathroom. Are you going downstairs?'

'I'll stay up here. I can't let you fall asleep on the toilet. The floor can only handle the stress of your weight for so long.'

'I was stupid for thinking you would show at least some compassion to a pregnant woman, especially your own wife. You actually get worse though. It's not very smart of you considering that one, my hormones levels are higher than the size of your ego and two, I can complain to Wilson forcing annoy the hell out of you and try to make you act nice."

"This is actually a technique I use. Since you're close to popping anyway, I guess I can tell you. I make you mad and then you ignore me. After a while, you realize you miss me and then we have make-up sex. Now that you're preggers, you'll get mad at me more. The hormones make it easier for you to get mad at me, which makes it easier for me to get some loving.'

'I'm going to go pee now.'

He sits on the edge of the bed, watching his wife walk to the bathroom beside the closet. He knows she knows he loves her so he doesn't hesitate talking like he just did. Although the sex happens to be extremely great, he would still love her just as much even if they never consummated the relationship at all. But since they have, he casts such a horrible thought away. She walks back, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed.

'So you only make me mad so that we fight and I ignore you?'

'That's PART of it'

'You don't miss me when I'm ignoring you?'

'Guess not'

When he sees the frown forming at the corner of her lips, the light from the lamp emphasizing the gloss of tears on her eyes, and her hands wringing together, he knows it's not anger this time. She's sad.

'You know I have trouble expressing my emotions…you know how I feel'

'No I don't Greg. Maybe at one point you actually did love me and were in love with me but you really have been making harsher comments. It was fine before but what if this is your way of expressing your anger or resentment or something? What if deep down you hate me for making you a domestic man?'

He doesn't know what to say. He can't make any jokes to get out of this. He's lost.

'I don't mean any of those things. I don't resent you, I'm not angry, I definitely don't hate you. I … I wouldn't be here if I felt any of those feelings. I don't miss being alone. Lisa…-'

'Wait. When you do this, do you initiate the make up sex or do I? It's always so good that I always forget what happened a few moments before it.'

It takes a moment but the realization hits him. Had it not been for the smile she flashes at him and the kiss she gives him right after, he probably would have been confused for much longer. With arms around each other, they fall back together onto the bed, kiss broken apart. The relief he feels along with the appreciation for his wife's sense of humour somehow brings him to start speaking in whispers, right into her ears.

'You scared me. I thought I would have to stop being mean to pregnant ladies'

'I'm not the only pregnant lady you treat horribly? Those poor women…'

'Yea, it's worse for them. They don't get the part of me that's all warm and cuddly and good in bed'

With her head on his chest, and body in his arms, he breathes in the scent of her hair and kisses the top of her head.

'Well if they're pregnant, I'm going to assume at one point they already had someone who was warm and cuddly and good in bed'

'You're lucky. You get goodness like this all the time'

'Even right now if I wanted it?'

'You're getting the hang of getting make up sex. I'll have to find new techniques'

'I don't know why you need techniques to try and get me to have sex with you. You could just do something that would make me want to do you'

'I do. Weren't you listening to my explanation about why I'm so mean?'

'Is that why you're mean to the rest of the world? You want to have sex with them, but you only have sex with the ones who you make up with?'

'Haven't you wondered why Wilson keeps coming back to me?'

'Don't you mean why you keep coming back to Wilson?'

Even though the room is dimly lit, he knows that she sees him smiling. She laughs and stares into his eyes, trying to read them.

'I'm getting kind of sleepy Lisa'

'We haven't even had my make up sex yet'

'You're not really doing a good job of actually executing the sex because if you haven't noticed, there's nothing in your va-jay-jay'

'I know. I guess I should start'

She pushes up off his chest so she can sit cross-legged on the bed. As her back is to his face, she shuffles until she is looking down on her husband. He raises his arms to support his head on the pillow, expecting something to happen. A quick smile appears on her mouth again, and then she suddenly gets off the bed, standing on the side far from House.

'I could go to sleep right now, and my dream-version of you could have sex with me, and by the time I get up, you would be ready to have real sex with me'

'Just wait. It'll be great'

He rolls his eyes, but all it does is make the excitement in his eyes spin in a circle. She can see, even in the dark light of the lamp that he is anxious for this to happen...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So? Was it satisfactory to your Huddy needs? It's my first fic *embarassment*. Please, any review are welcome! 2nd chapter will be up sometime this week.