He remained outside the door. Do you like me, House? Idiot. Way to stroke her ego. He knew it and was pretty damn sure she knew it too. Greg House turned to leave.

He heard voices inside. Shifting his weight, he leaned toward the window to eavesdrop.

"I part my hair on the side and I'm a Mama's boy?"

"You heard that?"

"You should hear yourself when you're talking to him. You're confident, focused, like nothing else in the world is going on."

House smiled as he limped off the porch, searching his coat pocket for the keys to Wilson's car. Hopefully he hadn't noticed his keys had walked out of the cafeteria with House earlier that day.

He heard the door open and close and spotted a taxi rounding the corner.

"House, right?"

Shit.

He turned to face the man as he stood in front of the taxi. House gave the man a look and pointed toward Cuddy's house.

"Leaving so soon?"

His attempt at sincerity was met with a laugh.

"Sorry, business you know, hospital never stops-"

"You're not sorry," Don replied, "and I don't blame you."

He gave House an insincere smile and a hard pat on the arm. Now it was House's turn to laugh. He doesn't think, I mean… She's not, er, I'm not… Fuck. House then opened his mouth to argue, the other man studying him. He shut his mouth as quickly as he opened it, aware that what Don had said was true. Don got into the taxi and House watched it until it was out of sight. He looked back to Cuddy's porch and sighed.

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

She remained standing in the space between her front door and the living room. Do you like me, House? Idiot. He must have seen right through her, and not because she wasn't wearing a bra. Assuming he had he said yes… no, she wasn't even going to go there.

The cheery fire crackling nearby was starting to die down, and the twin glasses of wine that occupied the coffee table now stood abandoned.

Lisa Cuddy walked over to the couch with a sigh, picking up the glasses from the table and finished them both. The sound of a man's raised voice caused her to turn to face her picture window.

Shit.

Outside by the curb stood House with Don, the man who had just rejected her. Both men seemed to be smiling, which couldn't be a good sign. She stood frozen just watching them, moving suddenly when she saw her date take House by the arm. Had he just hit him? Maybe she had taken that wine a little too fast, Cuddy mused, setting the glasses on the window ledge. Tipsy or not, she knew this wasn't going to end well. Cuddy slipped into her shoes, pulling open the front door. She stepped out onto her porch in time to see a trail of exhaust weaving down her street, and the man who exhausted her staring back at her with those piercing blue eyes.

"Oops."

This was his great apology for ruining her evening? Cuddy was furious.

"You!" she cried at him, taking strides down her front path as he met her halfway.

"I can't believe you would… and did he hit you?"

Now face to face, House gave her a questioning look. "I think it was more of a congratulatory pat, actually." He replied, his breath lingering in the cold inches from her.

"I take it you were watching that?"

"Well I've grown accustomed to following the sounds of an angry patient shouting your name," she responded wryly, moving a hand to her hip, "and I take it you heard everything that was said after I shut the door?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "That I was right about him being a Shriner?" With a roll of her eyes, Cuddy groaned. "Look, if you wanna yell at me some more, fine. Let's just do it inside, you know, where it's warm?" He looked down at her chest before adding "…looks like you're a bit cold."

Her eyes snapped up to his, lips pursed to curse him, but instead was met with a passionate kiss. His body pressed against hers, his arms snaking around her waist as his tongue desperately sought entrance between her lips. She attempted to fight him, but to her surprise a soft moan escaped her. The kiss was more crackling than the fire had been inside, tongues searching, wanting, fighting for control. Cuddy grasped at his biceps through his overcoat. House broke the kiss, his lips trailing her face towards an ear lobe. Despite the cold, his breath was hot against her ear. "Inside, now."

Somehow, they made it onto Cuddy's porch and stopped outside the door. House had walked her backwards up to this point, each studying the other's face. "House…" she gasped, wishing she had more control of her voice. "No," he raised a finger to her lips, "You don't get to regret this yet." One hand took hold of the doorknob, the other tangled in her curls pulling her towards him into another wanton kiss. They kissed their way, fumbling inside through the foyer and into the living room. House had her backed up against the couch. His thumb met the neckline of her dress with little fuss, easing its way inside and over a hardened nipple. She gasped into his mouth, feeling him smile against her lips. "You like that?" he teased, his thumb making little circles before taking her hardened bud in a pinch. "Houssssse…" she begged, wanting him to continue but needing him to stop. "Then you probably won't mind if I…" he whispered against her exposed skin before capturing her with his mouth, encircling the bud with his tongue. "Oh, God! House!" she groaned, "We… we s-shouldn't be doing this."

He hummed against her. "No," he said, spanning a hand across her stomach and over her pelvis, "we really shouldn't be doing…this." Two fingers suddenly plunged inside of her as his mouth returned to hers. God this felt good. His one hand continued its rhythm as his other fumbled with his belt. House muttered under his breath, cursing the button fly that kept him confined in jeans which were only growing tighter. His hand was met was hers, as she helped him with both button and zipper. Her hands pushed at his jeans with what force she could muster. She was close, and she wanted him over the edge with her. His cock tented against his boxers, which he helped her push down over his thighs after his jeans. She rubbed a thumb over his head, causing him to hiss with pleasure. "Cuddy…" he groaned, the length of him slowly replacing his nimble fingers.

Their eyes met as she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him inside. He took her in one swift motion, then another. Together they formed a rhythm, which as good as it felt wasn't exactly doing wonders for House's leg. He winced a little with each thrust, causing Cuddy's gaze to shift downward. "Your…leg…" she gasped. "Yeah, I…" he gasped back, his knees starting to buckle. He cupped her buttocks in his hands, easing her over the arm of the couch. He then immediately regretted this, feeling himself pulled over the couch suddenly, the two of them landing against the couch with a thud. She screamed. He laughed. "Sorry…" he said sheepishly, "but it's nice to know that you're enjoying-" "Shut up," she hissed, kissing him fiercely. The rhythm returned, and the kiss broke for air. Cuddy gripped at House's coat, her nails scratching at the woolen material. His mouth clamped down on a patch of skin below her neck, sucking hard. He would leave a mark. The orgasm washed over her, causing her to tremble below him. Her voice shook as he cried out his name.

"Grrrrrreggg…"

Greg. She had called him Greg. One final thrust and he was right there with her, allowing a moan to escape him as her walls milked him. "Lisa…" he whispered against her hair, just as the room faded to black.

When he came to, he was still inside of her. He opened his eyes and smiled happily against her cleavage. A small, soft hand stroked his hair and purred. "Hi."

"Hi," he said back, tilting his face up toward hers. "How long was I out?" She shifted below him, causing his cock to twitch inside her. She smiled. "I knew you liked me, Greg House." His face, like a kid caught in the cookie jar, sent her into a fit of laughter. "I never, you… you're a-assuming here that I…" he floundered, "Oh fuck."

"Seems you've done that," she mused, "and quite well, I might add." He watched her face. She seemed to be glowing, and not just from the afterglow of their mind-blowing sex. It made him smile. "Seems I have," he replied, just as his coat pocket began to vibrate. Cuddy reached inside the pocket and removed the phone, placing it up to House's ear. Before he could get a word out, he was met with a rather angry oncologist's tone.

"House, my keys, my car… It's late and I was just about to go home. Where the hell are you?" Wilson really was mad, he was stammering even.

Cuddy could hear every word. She tried to whisper.

"You took Wilson's car?"

"Borrowed more like…"

"House," Wilson cut in, "Who-who are you… is that Cuddy?"

Silence. Then the rare sound of House's laughter.

"You went to Cuddy's? Did you…"

"Sorry, Jimmy." House replied, "Hope you can find a ride…"

"Wait, House. Don't… You- you need to bring my car back here…"

House hung up the phone, leaning in to kiss Cuddy.

"You know, House, it is his car…"

"It's Greg, and your point is?"

"Take it back?"

"My name?"

"The car, Greg…"

He smiled. "How long have you known me?"

The phone rang again. Cuddy answered it without speaking.

"Okay, House? No. Nice try, but I'm not driving your car in this weather. It doesn't even have gas. Or… is that why you bought your own lunch today, so I'd have money to refuel…? House? Hello?"

House and Cuddy exchanged glances, both trying not to laugh.

Fin.