Long ago, Cuddy had stopped being shocked to find House inside her home without having been invited. She had no idea how he did it – she'd had professionals survey the place, and not one could explain to her how someone, let alone someone with a gimp leg, could get in without some seriously high-tech lock-picking equipment. What did shock her, however, was the sound of knocking at two in the morning, a time reserved for House to be crawling in her bedroom window, smacking his cane against the door, or calling twelve times in a row. The sheer normalcy of the knocking was disconcerting.

Pulling her robe around her shoulders, she shuffled to the peephole. House's head, distorted from the angle and from the fact that he had one eye leering into the circle, filled her gaze. With a frown, she opened the door, inspecting him for any overt signs of intoxication from non-Vicodin substances. His jeans, no more dirty or worn than the morning; his Stones tee, still with the coffee stain it had borne that afternoon; still in his leather jacket; nothing unusual to tip her off. Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you here, House? More specifically, why are you here, not committing an act of breaking and entering?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Haven't filled my monthly quota of sexual harassment. I thought I'd come by for a quick look at the old funbags and ass-smacking."

Cuddy raised an eyebrow. "My ass or yours?"

"Well if you're offering –"

"House!" Cuddy massaged her temples, willing him away. Whatever the reason behind his unusually tame visit, there was nothing too terribly wrong if he was capable of the same distasteful House-esque comments as usual. "What do you want?"

"Haven't I made that clear, Cuddles?" He grinned surreptitiously. "I'll be the naughty employee, you can be the strict-but-sexy boss…"

"You are a naughty employee. And if I thought spanking you would do any good, trust me, I'd be first in line."

House's eyes widened, giving him the appearance of a hound who'd just smelled a fox. "And if I said it would help…?"

"I'd call you a liar." Cuddy yawned. "Seriously, House, I have work tomorrow, and some of us like to show up to our jobs on time. If you don't have anything important to say –"

"I killed my patient." The sparkle in his eyes had dissipated, and he was staring pointedly at the ground. "Just thought you should know."

Cuddy opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again. She glanced to the clock. When she'd left at eight, Foreman had informed her that everything was under control. Not that she was surprised that he'd lied for House…

"I should go. More cheer to spread." House turned abruptly, cane smacking against the doorjamb in the process.

"House." She grabbed his arm, not really doing much to force him to stop, but he stopped all the same. "Tell me what happened. At least as much as I can know without being considered an accomplice."

He turned to her, uncharacteristically somber. "Nothing to tell. I didn't break any rules."

"You…what?" This was certainly new.

"I second-guessed myself. I went with the safe option. Gave her a round of chemo, ended up wiping out her entire immune system, and let Mister Virus have his way with her."

"House," her voice softened. "You did what anyone would do."

"Exactly." He thumped his cane against the ground a couple of times. "Ironical, isn't it?"

Cuddy let out a slow breath, wrapping herself more tightly in her robe against a sudden chill. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, save the sympathy for Cameron. You two can chat all about it at your slumber party, right after the naked pillow fight."

"I know this comes as a shock for you, House, but some people actually have feelings."

House feigned shock. "You're kidding! This is the first I've heard of it. These feelings – is that tingly sensation I get whenever I think about you and Thirteen making out one of those…feeling things?"

Cuddy sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes. "Look, I don't know why you felt it necessary to update me at two in the morning, but I'd like you to leave me alone so that I can go back to sleep."

"Aren't you going to ask me why I did what I did? Or more importantly, why I didn't do what I didn't do?" House frowned. "Or is it why I did what I didn't do?"

"Okay…why did you behave like a normal employee, for once?"

House rolled his eyes. "Well when you say it like that…"

"Why did you second-guess yourself, House?" Cuddy forced herself to keep the edge from her tone.

He straightened, swinging his cane back and forth, smiling slightly. "Because Wilson told me to."

Cuddy's brow furrowed, trying to work out whatever logic might be present in the statement. "You second-guessed yourself…because Wilson told you to?"

"Yup." House's cane returned to his side as he shifted his weight. "He told me that I was an arrogant jerk, too hung up on fulfilling my own morbid curiosities and hedonist whims than actually doing any good."

"And…you agreed with him?

"Nope." House shrugged. "Wanted to prove him wrong. So I did what everybody else said I should do."

"Which killed her." Cuddy shook her head. "You know, I think you may actually have proved his point. And for the record, you never told me any of this." She began to close the door when his cane prevented her from doing so.

"You agree with him?" House studied her. "That I don't want to do any good?"

Cuddy wanted to scream. She knew the answer probably wouldn't have any effect on him, one way or the other, and that he was asking merely to waste her time. Time that she should have been spending sleeping. "I think the bottom line is that what you do usually does some good, even if it is for your own entertainment. Is that a sufficient answer?"

"Huh?" House blinked. "Oh, sorry, I wasn't paying attention. You know your nightie is pretty much see-through, right?"

Cuddy crossed her arms across her chest. "Go home, House."

"Wilson said something else."

"I don't care." She made to close the door again.

House's cane pushed its way between the jamb and door again. "Humor me."

"I don't want to, House. It's two – no, two-fifteen in the morning. Go away."

"He said I made your life miserable."

Cuddy stopped struggling with the door and looked at House, who appeared genuinely interested in her reaction, given that his eyes were on her face and not her chest. She swallowed. "Why would he say that?"

"Doesn't matter." House looked at the ceiling. " Is it true?"

Cuddy leaned against the doorframe, toying her nails. "Do you really care about the answer?"

"I care enough that I'm not going away 'til you answer."

Cuddy sighed. "You make a concerted effort to drive me absolutely crazy, House. You sabotage any relationship I might be in, constantly undermine my authority, sexually harass me in public, and I'm pretty sure you were the one who wrote those things about me on the bathroom wall that maintenance had to paint over. You're rude, you're argumentative, and you cause more paperwork than half my other departments combined. I should have fired you years ago, and anyone who asks me why I haven't, I tell them it's because you're a good doctor, which is true, but not the reason. As much as a phenomenal pain in the ass you are, House, for some reason, I care about you. And so, yes, you make me miserable at times, but you don't make my life miserable. You make it…colorful." She glanced at him. "Satisfied?"

The only answer she received was his lips coming down forcefully against hers, his body moving inside, and the door slamming behind both of them.

She made no attempts to stop him in the events that followed. In fact, she was pretty sure that she was complicit. She was very sure that she was complicit the second time. And the third.

He was gone when she woke up, and she wasn't surprised.