"No. Absolutely not. You're not going." Cuddy slammed a cupboard to underscore her point.

"Mooooooom!" House whined.

"I really don't like when you do that," Cuddy informed him, a hand on her hip.

"It's not cute?"

"No."

"Funny?"

"No."

"Mental note," he said, watching Cuddy as she resumed bustling around the kitchen. "Come on, I promise to be on my best behavior."

"House, even your best behavior is reprehensible, if not illegal."

"You're embarrassed by me," he said, not really as hurt as he was amused. "You don't want to go to your high school reunion with your scruffy crude boyfriend."

Cuddy closed the dishwasher and turned to look at him. "I'm not embarrassed by you. But you're an acquired taste… that takes more than three hours to acquire."

"I have some redeeming qualities, Cuddy."

"You do, House, but what are you gonna do? Go around performing oral sex on everyone?" she teased.

House narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sure if that's an insult or a compliment." Cuddy laughed and walked over to his chair. She hugged his head. "I'll give you ten clinic hours," he offered.

She pulled back and looked down at him. "You want to go that badly?" He nodded. "Why?"

"I just like knowing as much as I can about you," he explained.

There was a pause. "See that sounds like some romantic idea, but I know it's actually to fortify your arsenal."

"What are you hiding?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing but the usual. Bad hairstyles and lame ex-boyfriends."

"Then take me."

Cuddy studied him, considering. "Twenty."

"Fifteen."

They had a short stare-down. House made puppy-dog eyes at her. Cuddy finally sighed heavily. "You have to dress up," she warned him.

"Victory!" House cheered, raising his arms above his head. "I'm gonna find out what a bad girl you were," he teased.

"You're gonna be sorely disappointed, House." She threw a dish towel in the sink. "I was a good girl." She leaned against the counter and smirked at him. "You made me bad."

"I like to think I helped your inner badness to blossom."

"You're going to be bored," she informed him, as if that was the end of it. She walked out of the room to check on Rachel.

"I'm never bored with you," House told the empty room.

[H] [H] [H]

House was lying on the bed next to Rachel, alternating between looking at a celebrity gossip magazine and watching Cuddy get ready. "Who do you think wore it best, Rach?"

"Her," Rachel answered, pointing to one of the starlets wearing the same dress as another.

House made a tsk-ing sound. "I disagree," he told her, "And too bad for you, 74 percent of US Weekly readers agree with me."

"Dang!" Rachel replied, as if she'd lost a game.

"You ready?" Cuddy asked, fastening her earring.

He tossed the magazine to Rachel. "Later, gator."

He turned to stand up and Rachel informed them that Amanda – who was in the living room - was her third favorite babysitter. "Why didn't you call Lindsay?" she whined quietly.

"I did, but she wasn't available," Cuddy told her, gathering her purse and slipping her shoes on.

"What about her other favorite?" House asked, feeling a little sorry for her.

"Her other favorite insisted I take him with me tonight," Cuddy said, kissing Rachel on top of the head and walking out of the room.

They settled Rachel with the sitter and walked outside. "You look too hot for a twenty-fifth high school reunion," he said, grabbing her ass and pulling her close.

She smiled. "That's what I was going for." Cuddy walked to her car as House headed for his bike. "House, I'm not riding a motorcycle to this," she scolded.

"Why not?" he asked. "You'd be so cool, squealing up on a bike, pulling your helmet off, shaking your hair out," he teased.

Cuddy sighed heavily. "A. This is not a John Hugh's film. B. It is over an hour-long drive. And C. I am wearing a dress." She opened the car door.

"Don't mess with the bull, Cuddy…"

She ignored him. "If you wanna come, you'd better get in," she warned sliding into the driver's seat. House limped over as fast as he could. She started the engine. "I already regret this," she told the windshield.

"I'm just teasing you," House chided. "Since when are you all sensitive?"

"I don't want to go to this in the first place, House. I have to because I was the student council president. I can't plan the thing and not show up. But having to babysit you is just making it more stressful."

"Why is this stressful? You make conversation over drinks all the time. Hospital fundraisers, dinner parties, swinger orgies."

She ignored his final example and backed out of the driveway. "This is different. That stuff is just tedious. With this, there's all the history. People remember things you've forgotten, but you have to pretend you remember. There's a competitive nature to it, like who is thinner, prettier, more successful. It makes every conversation loaded and awkward." House was silent. She looked at him. "I guess it's not as hard for someone whose every conversation with anyone is awkward."

"You're too worried about what people think."

"You're never worried about what people think."

"And look how happy and peaceful I am."

Cuddy laughed. "Yeah. You should become a life coach."

They rode in silence for a minute.

"So turn it on its head and have some fun with it, Cuddy. These people never see each other, but are all interested in scrutinizing each other. It's the perfect context for messing with people. The distal stakes are low, while the potential for proximal mayhem is high. You don't have to be Ms. Perfect anymore." He looked over at her. "You can be anyone you want."

"You mean I can go for Ms. Adequate?" she asked breathlessly. She realized that she was relaxing. As much as she hated to admit it, his way with life did take the edge off, helping her to see how most things mattered very little in the long run. If you get the big stuff right, who cares about the rest? "What were you voted in high school?" she asked him.

"Nothing," he answered. "I went to three different high schools in four years. One of them in Egypt. It was not your typical adolescent experience." She'd forgotten. He was so much more on top of pop culture than she was – so much hipper, in a way - she often forgot what an unconventional childhood he'd had because of his dad's military service. Maybe that's why he noticed so much now – he was trained to observe and figure out how to fit in... or how to stand out.

"So that's why you wanted to come. You're being a voyeur of the typical high school experience."

"Yup. I've had an empty life," he joked. She was right in a way, though. He was being voyeuristic, curious about this peek into Cuddy's beginnings. "What were you voted?" he asked.

"Most likely to succeed. Friendliest. Best smile."

House snorted. "Friendliest. They obviously didn't work for you." She gave him a dirty look. "But maybe your class had more men than women…" he teased.

Cuddy laughed sarcastically. "Yeah, that's why. I was far from a 'friendly' girlfriend, House. In fact, that's why my high school boyfriend dumped me."

"You wouldn't put out?"

"I believe his exact words were that I wouldn't 'prove my love to him,'" she laughed. "This was a week before prom and after two years of dating," she added, a little bitterly.

"Sounds like someone wanted the John Hugh's prom night," House observed.

"Yeah," Cuddy laughed. "Well, I'm grateful, cuz he was gonna get it, but showed me he didn't deserve it in the nick of time."

"A-ha! Busted. That was a close one, Cuddy. Everyone knows if you put out to a douchey high school boy, you're cursed to a lifetime of bad sex."

"There's a redundancy in that curse," she commented.

"Every high school boy is douchey?" he asked. Cuddy nodded and laughed. "Yeah, can't argue with that," he agreed.

"Anyway, shocker, I was a goody-goody. Wound a little tight," she admitted. "I didn't loosen up until college."

House laughed. "You cut the string in college, Partypants." Cuddy smiled mischievously.

"What about you? Did you de-flower anyone?" she inquired, curious.

House laughed. "No deflowering, no. But I was six feet tall and could grow a beard by the ninth grade, so the bad girls tended to find me."

"And then you helped them find your penis."

"They didn't need help, trust me. If anyone did, it was me. They taught me everything I know," he teased.

"Well, as the woman who doesn't have to sit through fumbling oral sex, I thank them."

"See? Bad girls serve a very important role in society."

"Training bad boys to sexually satisfy the good girls they finally land?"

"Giving bad bays at least one redeeming quality. Gives you goody-goodies motivation to work with us."

Cuddy nodded. "I'll mold you into a good boy yet. And in the meantime…" she smirked and raised a suggestive eyebrow. House reached over and put a hand on her thigh that she promptly shoved off. "Forget it. My hair and makeup are all perfect. I'm not letting you rumple me."

"Oh, I'll rumple you," he laughed, staring out the window. "You'll be begging me to rumple you." She looked over and smiled at him briefly. "In fact, I forgot," he added, "I was voted, Guy-most-likely-to-rumple-you."

"Weird category," Cuddy commented, chuckling.

"It's a bad girl thing. You wouldn't understand."

[H] [H] [H]

They arrived, parked, and were walking up to the doors. Cuddy gave a small groan of dread and House squeezed her hand. "Don't worry, Cuddy. In three hours I'll be reenacting your deflower-ment."

She looked over at him. "Don't do that," she said, with a disappointed face. "After this fiasco, I expect to be properly rumpled." She pecked his lips lightly at the door. "Best behavior, House. For every embarrassing moment caused by you, however small, I'm adding a clinic hour."

They entered the banquet hall. It was full of middle-aged people milling around with drinks in their hands. The women were overdressed and overly made-up and the men were under-dressed and talking too loudly to each other.

"Lisa Cuddy!" a woman squealed, clicking over to hug her. She was very loud, very tan, very surgically modified. "Do you remember me?"

Cuddy smiled, a little stiffly but only House would notice. "Of course. Megan. Megan… Wright?"

"Exactly! Well, Megan Reynolds now," she said, laughing like this whole married name thing was hysterical. "Joe's over there," she pointed to a guy in a golf shirt standing with five other clones. House and Cuddy didn't even know which one he was. Cuddy just nodded. "Are you Mr. Cuddy?" Megan joked, looking at House a little flirtatiously.

"I am, actually!" House exclaimed. "People usually think it's weird that I took her name. It's cool you're so forward-thinking." Megan was taken aback. Cuddy shot a glare at House.

"He's joking," she explained to Megan. "This is Greg House, my boyfriend."

Megan laughed boisterously. "'Boyfriend.' Chop chop, you two! Clock's tickin'." She laughed again.

House gave hearty fake guffaw. "Oh, Megan, You card. I've been shootin' blanks for years now."

Megan shook her head, confused, but kept smiling.

Cuddy looked like she might hyperventilate. She smiled at Megan, put a hand on House's arm, and said "We're gonna get a drink." She pulled House to the side and hissed, "I swear to God I will make you wait in the car. That's two clinic hours and we've been here five minutes!"

House was laughing for real now. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not. "

He tried to look serious. "I got it out of my system. I promise. But Cuddy, come on. Look around. What the hell are you even worried about? You're gorgeous, successful, have an interesting life, and are dating the most amazing guy in the room." Cuddy rolled her eyes. He grabbed her by her shoulders. "You have two options. This could be three long hours of tedious conversation, or it could be three hours we laugh about ten years from now when the next reunion invite comes." He kissed her forehead. "Don't be douchey."

Cuddy sighed. He was right. This was such an awful event that she didn't even want to attend, and being back in a high school context reminded her how sick she was of always coloring inside the lines. House usually helped her step away from that in really great ways. Provided he didn't completely demolish her reputation, it might be more fun to let him off his leash.

"What do you have in mind?" she asked warily.

"Just, bending the truth a little. Some embellishment here and there. A little game of which of us can out-do the other."

Cuddy considered his idea, his irresistibly playful eyes, and the many "embellishments" that were already flooding her head. "Fine. We can play," she said, pointing a finger into his chest. "But no implications that I am a criminal, a drug addict, involved in the sex industry, or used to be a man."

"Deal," he said, thrilled she was coming to the dark side. "Can I be a criminal, a drug addict, or involved in the sex industry?"

"I thought you wanted to pretend," she jabbed.

"Nice."

They rejoined the fray, getting drinks from the bar and circulating. Person after person kept approaching them to reintroduce themselves and reminisce. Cuddy was like the star the planets orbited. House guessed that's what happened when you were "friendliest." He spent life in more of a black hole role. And did they have fun messing with people! House led the way.

"How did you two meet?" one woman asked. "Circus," House replied. He put an arm around Cuddy. "Back in her old cannon days." The woman looked shocked. "You hadn't heard about that? Yeah, Cuddy was the best they ever had. Something to do with the shape of her ass."

The woman's gaze turned to Cuddy, who was smiling tightly. "Yeah, it's really not as hard as it looks. Nothing like having to walk across those tightropes in all that spandex," she said, patting House's arm affectionately.

The woman looked back at House then, and couldn't help glancing at his cane. House made a fake sad face. "Yeah. After the fall I had to quit. Luckily, I had already stolen Cuddy here from the bearded lady. She quit the big top with me so we could start a life together." The woman looked a little freaked out.

"He's kidding," Cuddy assured her. House looked at her, worried she was finking out on the game. "I was never with the bearded lady. We were just really good friends." Atta girl, Cuddy.

After some practice, Cuddy got good at it, and loved making House roll with her crazy stories. During another exchange with two couples who were talking about the challenges of raising kids, Cuddy chimed in, "Tell me about it. But if we didn't have our twelve little gems, we're be so bored, wouldn't we?"

"You have twelve kids?" one of the men exclaimed.

"Well, he does," Cuddy explained. "Only two are mine. He's been a busy busy boy."

There was an awkward pause. House was biting the inside of his cheek.

"You take care of them all at the same time?" someone asked.

"Well, I have to," House explained. "All the baby mamas are dead."

Cuddy coughed, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Dead?" one of the women asked.

"He just has the worst luck with women," Cuddy said, shaking her head with pity. "Poor guy."

House made a sad face and looked at the ground. Cuddy patted his back gently.

They continued this over many conversations, each trying to bait the other into being the first one to laugh. They had done what they always did, creating a little world-of-two within the larger world. But eventually Cuddy was forced to introduce House to Matt, her high school boyfriend. Something told House not to play around with this, but it wasn't Cuddy's demeanor. Matt was looking at her with such intensity, House felt as if he was intruding on something.

They made awkward small talk, and Matt finally asked how they'd met. Cuddy looked at House. It was his turn. "Met in college," House explained. "But now we work together. Same hospital."

Matt nodded, barely glancing at House. Cuddy was looking at House strangely, trying to figure out why he wasn't messing with - of all people - her ex. But it only proved his earlier argument. This conversation was stilted and tedious and the longest fifteen minutes of the evening. Matt finally wandered off when some others joined them, and Cuddy reinvigorated the game by explaining to everyone that she had met House when she helped to treat his Tourett's Syndrome. "It still acts up when he gets nervous," she told the group, leaning in conspiratorially.

House met her eyes, which held a dare in their sparkle.

"I'm gonna go – Motherfucker! – get a drink. You – Cock! – want anything?" he asked.

Cuddy shook her head and started cracking up. No one moved. They didn't know whether it was appropriate to laugh or not. As House moved to the bar, he heard her explain, "Laughing at it is the only way to cope sometimes."

He was chuckling to himself as he ordered a scotch. Then he noticed Matt leaning on the bar, staring at Cuddy as she chatted with the others.

"I only came here tonight to see her," Matt admitted abruptly, laughing at himself.

House felt uncomfortable. It was too intimate. He furrowed his brow. "I thought you dumped her…"

"Meh, I was a dumb horny kid, you know? Thinkin' with the wrong head."

"She's not exactly unappealing to either," House observed.

They both just watched her, tossing her hair over her should, laughing, talking with animated gestures.

"She was a good girl and I was an idiot," Matt mused. "Now she's the yardstick I measure all other women against." There was another long silence, then Matt cleared his throat. "I know it's cliché, but it has to be said," he told House. "You're a lucky man."

It caught House off-guard. Admittedly, he often focused on the negative, and his adoration of Cuddy was no different. In the privacy of his mind, he thought about the toiling for her, the time and effort it had taken to make it happen, the many mistakes along the way. He would focus on the lost years he could never get back, or the things he'd done he could never take back. As a result, he also got lost in the fear of losing her sometimes. It hurt to love her too much because he couldn't help but think about how she could destroy him. It was gawking at the car accident that hadn't happened yet.

You're a lucky man… and something clicked. His gaze matched Matt's, taking in this smiling, glowing, brilliant, elegant, funny, amazing woman. He'd memorized her over the last decades. He knew she had seven aunts, three recurring dreams, two irrational fears, eleven different smiles, thirty-eight pairs of shoes (thirteen of them black), and a cat that died when she was twenty-four. Somewhere along the line of learning all of this, she had turned his misanthropic, self-pitying worldview, if not on its head, at least ninety degrees toward happiness… and counting.

He already knew she was the one, for more than just him. But Matt's comment had made House see the invisible link, the string that tied her to him, both intricate and strong. He had left the "Longing for Lisa Cuddy" club and gained admittance to her life. She'd let him into a world where everything had potential - where a tedious social gathering might be great fun, a weird little family might be awesome, life might be as good as she was, and he might be the one in return.

House was so unexpectedly moved in that moment all he could do was nod and watch her, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

"She ruined me," Matt confessed quietly.

Houses nodded like he understood Matt perfectly. "She fixed me."

[H] [H] [H]

Cuddy went out onto the ballroom's patio and found House sitting with a group of golf shirts, passing a joint around. She spread her hands apart in a what-the-hell-is-this gesture. House nodded at her. The men swiveled their heads and stared at her.

"Did you bring pot to my high school reunion?" she asked, incredulous.

"Don't worry, this guy brought the pot. I just brought the prescription pad," he assured her. He pointed at each man, moving down the row. "Migraines, depression, irritable bowel, and… what was it, Joe?"

"Jim."

"Jim."

"Memory loss."

"Ironic."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind."

"House, I'm not sure this is one of your smartest ideas," Cuddy warned.

"Oh, I think it is. See, these righteous dudes are telling me all kinds of wonderful stories about you that I don't think I'd get as easily - at least not with the colorful side commentary – without some recreational enhancement."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. House patted the spot next to him on the bench. "Join us, Cuddles."

One of them snorted a laugh and said "Cuddles" under his breath. Cuddy gave him a dirty look as she clicked over and sat next to House.

"So I've heard that you were a dirty cheerleader, which you never told me." Cuddy smiled. "That you took the SATs for someone, which is cheating." Cuddy looked sheepish. "And that you crashed your car into the school sign, which is reckless." Cuddy blushed.

The last guy in the group passed the joint to Cuddy and she toked, almost absent-mindedly as she glared at House. There was an audible gasp. She held her breath, and gave House a look which he interpreted, turning to the group and saying "Oh, get over it." He turned back to her. "What do you have to say for your rap sheet, Ms. Goody-goody?"

She passed the joint to House, who passed it on without indulging. "Irrelevant because I was not dirty; misunderstood because it was for a good reason; and embarrassing because I have no excuse."

"Cheater," he shook his head in mock disgust.

"My best friend was horribly ill the day of the test and had waited until the last round of testing. If she didn't have a score her college applications would have been delayed and she wouldn't have gotten in anywhere. It was a life-changer."

House nodded. "Even when you were bad it was in a goody-goody way," he teased. "The collision?"

"That was just humiliating. It was a week after I got my license and I was not very good yet and misjudged the turn."

"Tricky turn?"

The whole group of guys shook their heads in response and Cuddy hung hers.

"Do you still have your cheerleader uniform?" House asked.

"I do, but I've forgotten where I left it cuz you got me baked," Cuddy teased.

"I know you still have it, and I know where it is," House told her in a low voice.

"I thought you didn't know I was a cheerleader."

"I said you never told me you were a cheerleader. I know all." He winked at her.

The air between them was charged. They were suddenly both aware that they had entered their little private world again, but were being watched like a sit-com by the high guys.

Cuddy leaned closer to him "It's after eleven. Can we go back to 2012 now?" she asked him.

"Yup, but I'm clearly driving." He rose."Well, fellas, it's been real. Best of luck with your various ailments." They all smiled and waved in a serene, sedated way. "Thanks for the intel."

Cuddy turned to walk back in and House saw them all staring at her ass.

"See you at the next reunion… Cuddles," one of them called, cracking up at his own joke.

Cuddy turned back and sashayed right up to the guy's face. She grabbed him by the collar and brought his face really close. House's eyes were wide, watching this. Cuddy leaned in, almost nose to nose with the guy. "You can get high with my boyfriend, spill my secrets, and stare at my ass, McLaughlin. But only one person gets to call me that and if you do it again I'll make sure Olivia finds out all about your little high school embarrassment. And I might not even be discreet about it," she hissed. The rest of the men visibly tucked themselves in, crossing arms, sucking in lips, trying to stay out of the line of fire. "Are we clear?"

McLaughlin's eyes were wide. He nodded. Cuddy let go of his shirt and nodded, smoothing her dress. She turned on her spiked heel and strutted back toward the door.

House turned to the men. "That's why you're never supposed to get cheerleaders high," House explained. "Their school spirit starts misfiring." The men just gaped. "What's your high school embarrassment?" he asked McLaughlin as an aside.

He shrugged. "I dunno. But I don't want Olivia to find out about it."

House smiled, nodded, and followed the coolest woman he knew out to the parking lot.

[H] [H] [H]

Cuddy was standing at her dresser, taking off her jewelry. House came up behind her and started unzipping her dress. "You're fun," he told her. Cuddy laughed.

"Oh, please. You're fun. If I hadn't let you come I would have been bored to tears." She smiled at him in the mirror. "Thanks for convincing me to bring you," she said. "You made it a lot better."

"And I didn't even perform oral sex on anyone," he teased.

Cuddy raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror and stifled a giggle. He noted the eyebrow and raised her another. "I thought you were a good girl, Cuddy…"

"My inner badness is blossoming," she replied. "I think someone slipped me something." He slid his hands down her arms and she sighed and leaned against the dresser. House parted her dress at the open zipper, skimming his fingers along her skin and sending a shiver down her spine. Cuddy let her head drop forward and he looked at her face in the mirror, curtained by her curls.

House wondered how many Matts were out there. How many men had spent an evening wishing they were next to this woman? He remembered those days - feeling lonely even when he was with people, when it had actually been easier to be alone because then he wasn't distracted from wanting her. He slipped his hands around her waist, sliding them along her stomach, the tips of his fingers grazing her panties. He made himself concentrate on the fact that he held her now, and possibly for the rest of his life. He let himself change it to probably… Probably for the rest of his life. And the fear dissipated. It didn't disappear, but it receded to his mind's dark corners, allowing space for an intense gratitude.

Cuddy laid her head back against him, her neck stretching up a bit as she tilted her face toward his. He raised his head from her neck and met her mouth, which fit against his in that familiar way. He ran his tongue along her top lip, captured by his, and a small puff of hot breath skimmed his chin.

As his hands slid the dress down her shoulders, he felt honored that there was no shyness, no posing when the fabric whooshed to the floor, circling her feet, still in heels. They had so much adornment in their relationship, added on over the many years and contexts the way a child piles on necklaces and a tiara over the dress-up clothes. And he wouldn't trade any of it – the banter, the sexual playfulness, the angst of a winding-road history – because it was woven into that string that tied them, and it was interesting and special. But it distracted him sometimes. He needed to remind himself to see that the little things – the way she laughed loudly with him, the fact that she'd talk to him with a mouth full of food or admit she had to pee in the middle of sex, the intensity of their fights that had turned from dangerous and worrisome into cathartic and cleansing - were the treasures. There was no pretense anymore… no worry about the fragility of the relationship.

It hadn't been a single moment that had caused this settling into each other, but a mosaic of moments. But looking at Matt - seeing the man's too-familiar longing and regret - had caused him to realize he'd left that behind. He wasn't fearless about the idea of losing her. He just knew, suddenly, that he never would. They'd come too far.

She was standing in front of him now, clueless about his reverie. Her chest was heaving as she pressed her palms on the dresser, pushing up on her toes a little to rub against him. She met his eyes in the mirror, her sexy smirk wavering a little as she tried to analyze his facial expression. "What's up, thoughtful?" she asked, reaching behind her and groping him.

House licked his lips and unclasped her bra. "I just love you," he told her, like it was business, like he was telling her he'd left a file on her desk.

He guided her bra down her arms, his hands clasping over hers on the dresser. His mouth closed on the spot where her neck became her shoulder and Cuddy's knees went a little weak. She arched her back and her ass rubbed against him and he groaned a little. One hand moved up to her breasts, and one down her stomach and into her panties, feeling her slick heat. He saw her eyes flutter and close in the mirror. "You gonna prove your love to me, House?" she murmured with a smile, opening his pants.

He laughed. "I'm not that type of guy." Cuddy pulled him out ran her hand along him. "Oh, wait. I am," he sighed. He pulled her panties partway down her legs and slid inside her. They leaned against the dresser, moving together slowly at first, luxuriating in the sensations. They caught each other looking in the mirror in front of them, but neither looked away. Cuddy felt his hands on her hips as he moved more purposefully. Her eyes flitted between looking at his reflection fucking her and her reflection being fucked by him. She moaned and fell to her elbows on the dresser.

Giving Cuddy pleasure was, hands down, his favorite thing in the world to do. As he moved into her he watched her eyes clench a tiny bit, heard her tiny gasps. He gave some consideration to doing this to her, slowly and methodically, all night long. But his fucking leg… An evening of standing hadn't been kind and he was experiencing the split brain sensation of simultaneous mind-blowing pleasure and screaming pain.

"Cuddy," he breathed in her ear. "I'm sorry, I just…"

"Shut up and get on the bed," she ordered, mid-moan.

He did, stepping out of his slouched pants, and no sooner flopping onto the bed before she was straddling him, guiding him inside her again without missing a beat. She started unbuttoning the shirt she hadn't bothered with previously, running her hands over his chest. She needed more of him against her, craving his hardness and scruff. She lay down on him, pressing her legs along his torso. Their mouths weren't kissing exactly, just breathing together. She held his face in her hands and rocked her pelvis against his, whimpering a little with each downward push. House felt her stomach skimming over his, her skin under his palms as he caressed every part of her he could reach. When her little cries started, falling into his mouth with an increasing intensity, he sat up, holding her against him. He kissed her neck as she continued riding him, tasting her skin. Cuddy threw her head back, allowing his tongue more room to roam. His hands pressed on her back, pushing her breasts against his chest.

"Fuck, House," she cried to the ceiling.

"With you," was all he could get out and they were embraced and overcome, moaning and crying out with abandon. He held her shuddering body against his and she held his head in her hands, bouncing between looking up and kissing the top of his head. They moved together for a long time, savoring every tingle. When it was over, they fell sideways onto the bed. He stroked her hair sleepily and she tickled his back.

"You look pretty rumpled," he murmured, looking at her through half-closed eyes.

Cuddy laughed. She looked into his glassy eyes, and then her face grew serious. "I love you too, you know," she whispered.

House chuckled and rolled to stare at the ceiling. "I know."

"I always will."

"I know," he assured her.

There was a beat of silence. She looked at House, who was just grinning at the ceiling, thinking about how he was the one who got to take this woman home, night after night after night. This was his peace in life. He didn't believe in God, so he couldn't go to him for comfort, help, or the motivation to do better. But he believed in Cuddy.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I'm good."