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A flu-ridden Gregory House looked up pitifully as the door to his apartment was unlocked.
"No more clinic. Have pity on a dying man."
Lisa Cuddy rolled her eyes, locking the door behind her. She took off her coat and hung it up, then tossed her keys on the coffee table, along with her purse. "You're not dying. You have the flu." Lisa walked over to him and put her hand on his forehead. "Let me guess. You didn't get your flu shot?"
"I hate you."
"Yeah, I haven't heard that one before." Lisa walked into the kitchen and got out a glass. She filled it with water and then rummaged around in a cupboard before coming up with some Advil. Returning to perch on the coffee table, she held out the glass and the tablets. "Take these. They'll help start bring the fever down. Then we can work on getting you into bed."
"I'm fine here." Greg gruffly accepted the tablets and took them.
"Of course you are. But your leg won't be. So stop complaining and let's get you to bed."
"You have a nasty streak."
"Takes one to know one." Lisa picked up his cane and handed it to him. "Let's go."
With a bit of effort on both their behalf's, they managed to get him out of the chair. Lisa let him lean partly on her and partly on the cane, and the couple shuffled to the bedroom.
Greg was unceremoniously shoved on the bed when they arrived, and he landed with an "oof!"
He glared up at Lisa. "Although I do enjoy being man-handled by you on occasion, Dr. Cuddy, was that really called for?"
"You wouldn't be feeling like this if you got your shot." She began taking off his shoes and socks. "Sort of like how you accosted me in Exam Room 1 and unceremoniously pulled my skirt up and shoved a fluneedle in my butt."
A broad grin appeared on Greg's face as he reminisced. "Ah yes. Wonderful moment that." He watched her as she began working on the buttons of his shirt. "Why didn't you do that to me?"
"Because I'm more subtle," she replied, pushing his body towards hers so she could take the shirt off.
Greg made a big show of nuzzling against her breasts. "Is that black lace?"
"Oh for heaven's sakes." Lisa let him fall back against the bed again. "Grow up."
"I'm sick. Don't be mean."
She undid the belt of his trousers and pulled the zipper down, before, with a bit of effort, tugging the pants off his body. "Don't feel like you have to help here. I'm quite happy to lug you around all by myself."
"Glad to know we agree on something."
Lisa rolled her eyes at him. "At least help me push you back up the bed so I can get you into it properly, instead of dangling halfway over the side like some hairy rag doll."
With some more groaning and grunting, the couple pushed him up onto the bed. Lisa threw a sheet over him and picked up the clothes, tossing them into the laundry hamper.
"Lisa?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you staying?"
A soft smile appeared on her face. "Yes, Greg, I'm staying."
Greg closed his eyes, opening them only as he felt the bed dip beside him a few minutes later. Lisa, dressed in the nightgown she always left at his apartment, looked up at him, her fingers tenderly brushing some hair from his forehead.
"Go to sleep, Greg."
One arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close to him. "Yes, Doctor Lisa."
FINIS