This is a sequel to "A Rainy Night In Jersey", a House/OC one-shot. I don't own House, but I do own Matthews.

House awoke, bleary-eyed and vaguely aware that the other side of his bed was cool and empty. He smiled at the thought of the warmth and softness that had filled it only hours before. After a few minutes, he popped a couple of Vicodin and hauled himself out of bed.

Following his nose, he limped into the kitchen, finding his mug next to the coffeemaker. A note leaned against his mug.

Greg:

Early meeting this morning. Coffee's fresh. See you when you get in.

Avery

House filled his mug and took a long sip. Avery's coffee was almost as good as Cameron's, and her company was a hell of a lot more welcome, too. They had met several months ago when she started as head of cardiology. She checked in on him one rainy night before she left, and they ended up getting a drink before she took him home. Every time it rained or stormed that summer, there was Avery. They developed a connection somewhere along the line, and by the end of the summer, she was giving him more than the occasional ride home.

Things were good between them, comfortable, even. Avery was in her mid-40s, settled in her career, never expressed interest in having children or getting married. This was fine by House, mostly. If it hadn't been for knowing Cuddy, he would have been suspicious of a woman like Avery. The only difference between the two women, really, was Cuddy's desire for children.

It did make him wonder, just a little. Avery was a stunning woman, and not just on the surface. She was tall, nearly coming to House's chin, slightly rounded and curvy, with skin the color of rich caramel and eyes the color of the coffee he was drinking. In addition, she had an easy, mellow way about her, a nearly perfect complement to House's own almost manic energy. She was a calming presence that he deeply appreciated, even if he never really told her so.

So what the hell was she doing hanging with him and how had she managed to stay single for so long? House wondered about this from time to time, often as they laid in bed together, his arm wrapped around her soft, luscious curves, Avery curled up against him, one leg thrown over his. She could do so much better than a cranky old cripple with a long time Vicodin habit, and yet…she seemed to like him. He didn't understand it, but that didn't mean he didn't like it, and if she wanted to continue showering him with attention, he sure as hell wasn't going to turn it down.

He finished off the rest of his coffee and set his mug in the sink. As much as he would have liked to linger, Cuddy would have his head again if he didn't show up at a reasonable hour. His team had a case that was proving to be very challenging, to say the least, and he wanted to make it in before they killed the guy…or the girl. Whichever. Damned if he could remember. It wasn't really relevant anyway.

Doctor Avery Matthews was already hard at work when her door opened with a bang. She had quickly learned that House never knocked. Ever. He limped in and stood in front of her desk. Today he was dressed in his standard jeans and running shoes, topped with a white t-shirt, dark blue button down dress shirt, and charcoal grey sport coat. The blue in his button down seemed to intensify his already impressive blue eyes, something she had noticed when she first showed up at his office to offer him a ride home one night. Initially she had only done it as a favor to Wilson, but over the ensuing months, she found herself liking his sharp, sarcastic wit, discussions about his cases, and stories about his team.

They had developed an easy rapport during that summer, and that rapport translated into the bedroom…or couch…or…wherever. Their relationship was more than friends-with-benefits, but not quite a typical boyfriend/girlfriend relationship, either. It didn't require defining, she supposed. She and House were past that stage of life, certainly. All she knew was that what they had worked.

"Need a consult, Matthews." House casually tossed the file on her desk, leaning forward on his cane and rocking back and forth. Avery put on her glasses and pulled out the scans, putting them up on her lightboard to get a closer look at them.

House came up behind her, a hand around her waist and his chin on her shoulder. "See anything yet?"

"Nothing's jumping out at me. Sorry, House. I don't think it's a cardiac issue." His scent wafted into her nostrils, a rich, spicy scent that he had taken to wearing since they'd been seeing each other.

"Mmm…damn. Thought I had something there." He leaned in a little closer, taking in her soft citrus scent. He had first noticed it that first night she drove him home, and always associated it with Avery. House lightly kissed her on the neck, then reached up for the scans. "Guess it's back to the whiteboard."

He picked up the case file and headed to the door before pausing and turning around. "Don't bother waiting for me tonight. I've got a feeling this case is going to be a real bitch."

"No problem. I'll just go home. You want me to save you some leftovers?"

He smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his rugged features. "Well, yeah. I don't plan on being here all night, you know. I'll probably be hungry." House winked at her in exaggerated fashion.

That man's a mess. Avery laughed as he left. "Go on, get back to your ducklings. Try not to kill your patient today."

"No promises…" And with that, he step-thumped out of her office.

House was quite a remarkable man, really. Tall, light, and handsome. A variation on her usual preferences, for sure. He was often a real pain in the ass at work, and while he wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine outside of work, he was often calmer and quieter, a little easier to deal with. Often he would sit at the piano with his ever-present glass of bourbon while she cooked, playing whatever came to his mind and beautiful, elegant fingers. Occasionally he would burst into song as he played, a rough, growling baritone that made Avery a little weak in the knees. Yes, she was easily swayed, and she knew it. The man had real talent, and probably would have made it as a musician if medicine hadn't somehow worked for him.

She couldn't see that happening, though. House was passionate about everything, indifferent about nothing, and couldn't understand anyone who didn't feel the same. That passion extended to Avery, especially in the bedroom, where he put those fingers to all kinds of uses. Those rough hands were always surprisingly gentle over her skin, and as for the rest of him…well, the man had skills. Avery was kind of surprised that House was still single at his age. Good for her, but, well, a bit odd. He was a difficult man, a bit complicated, and didn't seem terribly interested in long term commitments. That alone could account for a lot, as most women her age seemed desperate to get married and have children before they got too old. Avery always figured that she was just wired differently, since she never seemed to want any of those things. While that meant she spent a lot of years as a single woman, it also meant that she was free to do what she wanted, and if that meant spending her nights with a fine older man, so be it. Things could certainly be worse.

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