A/N: Hi, this is Mithol. Yes, I'm the one who wrote this story. It's my first fic ever, so please be nice, but also be honest. The plot's pretty pointless; it's just some way to get house and Cuddy together. I hope you like it though. It's not finished, but I will try.

Disclaimer: You know, House isn't mine etc. etc.

Chapter 1: Feelings

House stormed into Cuddy's office. He swung open the glass door and limped up to her desk in a huff, his face like thunder, and slammed both hands down on her desk, his cane swinging off the right one.

"You pulled my authorisation … again?" he fumed. "What did I do this time?"

Cuddy sighed, putting down her pen and clasping her hands peacefully and patiently in front of her. She looked calmly up at Dr. House, seeing his wide, angry blue eyes and pausing briefly for effect.

"You can't work on that patient against his will," she explained slowly. "He said 'no', so why are you still testing him?"

"He doesn't know what he's saying," House protested. "His thyroid count is up."

Cuddy gave him a withering look. "But not enough."

"He can't make decisions for himself."

"Yes he can."

"He's an idiot."

"Look," Cuddy slapped her hands down on the table. "I am in charge of this hospital. You can't test him. The legal risks are too high."

"And the medical risks are higher if we don't do more tests," insisted House.

"Then he'll die. But we'll be OK."

House was silent and still for a moment. "You might be," he answered quietly. His eyes did not connect with hers when he said this.

Cuddy frowned. House and caring about patients did not go together; at least, not under any normal circumstances. She stood up slowly and walked around her desk to stand right in front of him, but, as usual, she remained about a head below him.

"House," she said gently. "I'm sorry … maybe I could–"

"–No," House cut her off and looked into her eyes. "You're right. He'll die." He smiled warmthlessly, his blue eyes bereft of emotion. Then he turned away from her. "I'll go tell him; try and convince him some more." And he had taken one step with his cane when his pager beeped. He pulled up his shirt and lifted up the little device. He turned back to Cuddy, a look of relief on his face. "Chase. Says he's changed his mind. They need my authorisation to do the tests." He paused and said coldly. "Or he'll die."

Cuddy ran back to the desk and picked up the phone. She said something to someone else and then put it down again.

"You've got authorisation. Go ahead."

House picked up a page on Chase, telling him to do the tests. "Good," he said when he'd finished. He was just about to turn around when Cuddy grabbed his arm.

"What?" he asked.

She looked like she about to say something for a second. Then she shook her head. "Nothing."

But House looked uneasy. He shifted and gripped his cane tightly until his knuckles turned white. "Are you sure?" he asked. And he turned to face her fully, no more than a couple of inches away from her. She had noticed this too and she looked scared and uncertain.

"Just … tell me something," she pressed. "Do you have feelings?"

House was taken aback by this question.

"It's just; I know you care about your patients."

House was too shocked even to make a smart come back. He just stood, mouth slightly open, eyes wide and stared at Cuddy; which is probably why she took that as the perfect moment to do something totally unbelievable and unexpected.